


Wide Awake

by Yoite



Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Attempt at Humor, BDSM, Because love is hard work, Biting, Blood and Violence, Character Analysis, Consensual Non-Consent, Consent Issues, Denial of Feelings, Dialogue Heavy, Dom/sub, Drugged Sex, Emotional Roller Coaster, Fights, First Time Bottoming, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I have a thing for straight guys turning gay, I have a twisted sense of romance, Internal Conflict, Love Confessions, M/M, Mating/Claiming Vibes, Nick and Monroe are bitchy and fight a lot, Porn with Feelings, Power Dynamics, Revelations, Rough Sex, Scent Kink, Secrets, Shameless Smut, True Love, Wolfed Out Sex, ooc moments
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-08
Updated: 2015-08-04
Packaged: 2018-04-03 09:47:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 31,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4096360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yoite/pseuds/Yoite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick can't sleep. Maybe Monroe can help? - Smut turned Love Story :)</p><p>Set in series 2, episode 12, so SPOILERS. (Also, there is a little spoiler regarding how Wesen recognize a Grimm, which only gets revealed in Series 3 - but no PLOT spoilers for Series 3/4.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Set at the point where Nick moves in with Monroe. But I kind of assume that Monroe did not tell Nick that it was Sean who kissed Juliette, so Nick didn't leave that night, and things depart from the actual S2 plot very quickly!
> 
> Yes, there is smut, but that's not my main focus! It's all about the love story!
> 
> WARNINGS: EXPLICIT AND ROUGH SEX, VARIOUS CONSENT ISSUES, DIRTY LANGUAGE, ANGST, VIOLENCE AND BDSM THEMES. So, in short, standard Nick/Monroe ;).
> 
> Hope you like - please review :)

Monroe was lying in bed and counting broccoli florets jumping over a hedge. It wasn't working. He was yet to discover a vegetarian alternative to sheep that would help him sleep.

The clockmaker felt awful for his friend. Nick had been so brave and stoic all along, first when Juliette fell into a coma, and later, when she woke up missing her memories, and even after that, when Monroe had to tell him about  _the kiss_. He never lost hope, and this was one of the many reasons why Monroe admired him. But now that Nick had to move out of his own house the stress was really starting to show. When Monroe went to bed the detective was still sat downstairs on the sofa, demolishing his supply of imported German beer and pretending to watch QVC. Well, maybe he  _was_  watching, but Monroe found it difficult to believe that Nick intended to buy three pairs of pink ladies' pants. Monroe wished with all his heart that he could do something for his friend, something more significant than just providing him with emergency accommodation. He tried to strike up a comforting conversation, but for some reason the long and fascinating history of his talking Stalin-era matryoshka clock failed to produce a significant improvement in Nick's mood. So, in the end, he had to say good night. He hated going to bed after 10 pm.

Monroe turned to the other side, and, to his surprise, found himself in a forest, chasing a squirrel. Just to say 'hello', of course. He followed it all the way up a tree, to the highest branch, from where it jumped onto his shoulder and said:

"Monroe, wake up."

The clockmaker found it had an unusually deep voice, for a squirrel. The little ball of fur continued to jump up and down on his shoulder.

"Monroe? Monroe!"

He opened his eyes – and instantly jumped into a sitting position, suddenly wide awake. In the dim light of the moon seeping through the window he could just about make out a person-shaped shadow sitting on his bed, and very close.

Monroe switched on a bedside lamp. The shadow became Nick-shaped.

"Dude, are you okay?"

The detective looked at him out of bloodshot eyes. He was still wearing his clothes from earlier, a dark blue shirt and jeans. Obviously, he had not been to bed yet.

"I can't sleep."

Nick's gaze started sliding down and Monroe became acutely aware that it was a warm night and he was au naturel. He drew the duvet right up to his armpits.

"Um, I can make you a warm milk?"

Nick looked away and laughed softly.

"My mother used to do that."

"So you want..?"

Nick shook his head, barely noticeable.

"I'm not a child anymore."

"Okay, well..", Monroe scratched the back of his head, feeling a little uneasy. He was not exactly used to having visitors in his bedroom in the middle of the night. "Would you like to talk?"

There was the same silent, negative response. Monroe was running out of ideas. He looked at the clock on the wall opposite. It was almost 2 in the morning.

"So how can I –"

He did not get to finish that sentence as Nick suddenly leaned over and wrapped his arms around him, pressing his face into Monroe's naked shoulder and interlocking his hands behind his neck.

The clockmaker froze, more than just a little confused. Nick wasn't usually the hugging type.

"Erm.."

He wasn't sure what he was supposed to do, so he went with lightly patting his friend on the back.

"It's alright. Everything will be fine. I promise."

Monroe wished he could say something more substantial, but the whole situation made him lost for words, which was quite a rare experience. Nick did not reply but gave a contented sigh and Monroe shivered from the warm breath on his skin. He tried to move away a few inches but Nick seemed glued to his upper body.

"Uh, Nick, shall I call Rosalee maybe?" Monroe was alarmed by the sudden unevenness that had crept into his voice. "I'm sure she is better at this kind of stuff. You know, I'm not really qualified to-ohh-"

Monroe gasped as he felt Nick lightly kissing his shoulder. This had to be some kind of really weird misunderstanding. He opened his mouth to clarify the situation but did not get very far as Nick's hands moved up to tangle themselves in his hair and the detective's lips dragged across his shoulder, pressing into the nook of his neck.

"Nick -"

Monroe's breath caught in his throat and he could not make it go any further. He felt completely helpless as Nick continued to slowly kiss up his neck, causing his insides to flutter more and more noticeably every time. It had been a while since anyone kissed him there.. or, well,  _anywhere_ , really.

"Nick.. what.."

The Grimm's mouth reached the edge of his jaw, which was a particularly sensitive spot and Monroe shuddered, suddenly regaining the ability to speak – in a somewhat panicked manner.

"Okay, okay. Okay. That's enough now."

He placed both hands on Nick's shoulders and pushed him away from his chest, more forcefully than intended.

"This is getting a little awkward man."

Nick did not seem to think so since he appeared completely at ease, as if nothing extraordinary had occurred whatsoever. His eyes were looking straight at Monroe, big and soft and with slightly diluted pupils. Monroe tried to calculate how many bottles the detective might have consumed since he last saw him. But his heart was beating way too fast in his chest right now and it affected his mathematical abilities.

"Erm, Nick?", Monroe was trying to think of the most diplomatic way to put this. "Did you swallow anything? I mean, apart from the beer?"

Unexpectedly, Nick gave him a mischievous smile.

"No, but I  _can_ , if you want.."

Monroe blinked several times as his brain was working hard to process this, finally spitting out the only suitable, but extremely unlikely interpretation. He felt his face turn bright red.

"Right! I really think you should go get a little rest now."

The clockmaker did his best to sound calm and rational, but he could already feel his inner barriers crumble. Truth was, he did have a soft spot for the Grimm. It was a 'love at first sniff' kind of story, which is why Monroe could never say 'no' to Nick, even at the very start, when they hardly knew each other. But never in his wildest dreams – which, by the way, were not all that wild these days – did he ever think of acting upon his feelings. He had pretty good self-control, and if he managed to stay away from meat and hunting, and some other things that were part of his nature, then an inappropriate little crush was not too difficult to handle. Not that it was 'inappropriate' from Monroe's own personal point of view. Nick was hardly the first guy he had ever fallen for, and that didn't bother him. But they were best friends, and the Blutbad was very certain that Nick didn't swing that way. Obviously, the alcohol – and maybe something else – was muddling his head.

"Come on", Monroe was so thrown off balance he even forgot he was naked. "Let's take you to your own bed."

He made a move to get up but Nick stopped him with a hand on his upper arm. And then, Nick's other hand moved further south and Monroe gave a sharp exhale as his eyes widened in shock.

"I don't think you  _want_  me to leave", Nick muttered, "there's firm proof."

Monroe stared at the young man, trying to contain his heart and stop it from jumping through his rib cage. Innuendo was not like Nick. Touching his cock was  _definitely_  not like Nick. Monroe  _liked_ the Nick that was not like Nick. He found his last shred of self-restraint and held onto it for dear life.

"What..  _the hell_.. are y- "

Nick leaned in and caught his lips mid-sentence. A ball of heat exploded in Monroe's very core, instantly evaporating all of his resistance. He grabbed a fistful of Nick's hair and furiously pressed his mouth into the Grimm's, flipping him around and pushing him deep into the cushions.

He held his breath as he licked across Nick's upper lip, burning to know if he tasted as good as he smelled, and felt the detective shiver and open up against him, inviting him in. Nick's taste was exhilarating, like springtime, like a run through the woods at dawn. Monroe groaned and clenched both hands into Nick's soft, dark hair, stretching out on top of the Grimm as he deepened the kiss. His pulse was running wild, pounding in his temples – and some other parts of his anatomy. He hunted Nick's tongue, passionately, almost feverishly, not letting go of the detective's lips even for a second, as if scared that he would lose him if he did.

Nick's hand wandered along his arm and up to his face, tracing his jawline, and Monroe's heart almost stopped as he felt how aroused the young man was. He finally dared to break the kiss, pushing himself up on his hand to take in the sight of the Grimm beneath him. The detective's eyes were closed, his lips parted, and there was a light red hue glowing on his cheeks. The image took Monroe's breath away and almost brought a lump to his throat. How had he managed to be so close to Nick for over a year, and never touch him, not even.. It seemed unthinkable now. Monroe cupped Nick's face with his free hand, brushing a thumb over his cheekbone. Nick was so beautiful.

The detective's eyes fluttered open, deep and inviting, blue-green like a pond in a forest glade.

"Your beard tickles.."

The darkness in his pupils was drawing Monroe in. So black.. The Blutbad winced at the sudden pang of guilt. Something was definitely not quite right with Nick's eyes, and as much as he wanted to ignore it, he couldn't.

"Nick..", Monroe swallowed hard, burning up with desire as his conscience succeeded to gain the upper hand. "We really.. shouldn't be doing..  _this_."

"Please", Nick whispered, turning his face into the Blutbad's hand and kissing his palm. "I need you, Monroe."

Monroe bit his lip and forcefully shook his head, trying to ignore the surge of heat that washed over him.

" _Don't_. It's not right. It's not you."

Nick turned to face him again and his eyes narrowed, suddenly full of sadness and hurt.

"Don't you want me?"

It was too much to bear. Monroe leaned down and brushed their lips together once again, more gently this time. He wanted to pour all of his being into that kiss.

" _Of course_  I want you", he whispered against the other man's mouth and the detective gave a shaky sigh, filling his lungs with mouth-watering Nick scent that made his head spin out of control.

".. always..", the Blutbad muttered huskily as that raw, untamed side of him began to take over again, ripping his inhibitions to shreds.

He wanted to immerse himself in that gorgeous smell, to melt into it completely. Monroe only hesitated for a second, then decided he didn't really care if this was appropriate and licked Nick's face, from his chin all the way up to his temple.

".. I've always..  _wanted_  you.."

The Grimm pressed up against him and made an indefinable, but infinitely arousing little sound, digging his fingernails deep into Monroe's skin. The Blutbad growled at the mixture of pain and pleasure, burying his face into Nick's neck and finally allowing himself to woge. He'd been suppressing it for quite a while now and it was actually beginning to drive him crazy.

".. so much!"

He sank his fangs into Nick's throat, delighted by the startled outcry he received. Nick was full of beautiful noises he'd never heard before. Monroe was so enthralled he only barely managed to stop himself from breaking the skin. He had to keep reminding himself that Nick was not a Blutbad, not even a Wesen at all, and he couldn't be quite as rough as he would be with his own kind.

Nick's breath continued to hitch as Monroe was slowly working his way down, kissing every inch of the detective's body and ripping his shirt open in the process. His claws did not exactly allow him to fiddle with the buttons. Every fiber in his body was drenched in the Grimm's scent. His head felt foggy, filled with Nick's elevated heartbeat and the sound of his own blood rushing in his ears, and not much else. The detective was sweating and trembling under his lips and the Blutbad sucked the sweet moisture from his skin, hungrily, craving to reach the area where his taste would be even more intense.

When he arrived at Nick's belt Monroe sat up to gain better control of his hands. They were almost numb with excitement, and also not entirely hand-shaped. He summoned all of his self-control in order to regain his human appearance. Of course, Nick had seen him woged hundreds of times, but right now Monroe was a little bit ashamed of it. Not to mention that fangs would get in the way of what he intended to do.

The Blutbad watched his fingers as they started to undo the buckle, avoiding to look Nick in the face. Part of him was scared that Nick would shout at him to stop, and maybe punch him for good measure. And another part of him was scared that he wouldn't. But, in the end, curiosity got the best of him and Monroe cautiously raised his gaze just as he was about to open the zip.

Nick was looking right at him, eyes wide with expectation and pure, unveiled need. Monroe had never seen him like this before, so completely unguarded and consumed by a single emotion. He stared at the other man in fascination as he proceeded to pull down his jeans and underwear. The Blutbad could hardly believe that Nick was actually,  _actually_  letting him do this. The thought alone made him light-headed, as did the Grimm's scent, suddenly overwhelming. Monroe could not wait any longer.

He leaned down, tentatively licking the tip, still unsure how the detective would react and if this was really okay. Nick gasped and flinched, painfully clenching his fingers in the Bludbad's hair.

"Oh.. God!"

Monroe shuddered as all the blood in his veins instantly turned to fire. This was all the reassurance he needed to place his hands on the young man's hips and fully take him into his mouth. Nick was unspeakably delicious! Monroe almost hummed in contentment as he began moving his mouth up and down along the shaft, feeling it grow even harder between his lips.

It had been a while since Monroe had done anything like this, but judging by the moans that came from Nick every time he swirled his tongue around the head and sucked it he wasn't doing too bad a job. It only took a couple of minutes to reduce the Grimm to a wet, throbbing mess of nerves, a mess that was begging him in between shaky pants:

"Oh.. God.. Yes.. Please.. Monroe.."

The sounds alone were almost enough to push Monroe over the edge. Nick was usually pretty restrained when it came to expressing his feelings, and to have him so vocal and unscripted in his arms was astonishing and mesmerising to the point where it was making Monroe dizzy with happiness and arousal. He had half expected Nick to be thinking about Juliette right now, and was entranced to hear his own name from the detective's lips, almost in a sob, to know that Nick was aware it was him he was receiving so much pleasure from.

Monroe was trying to stop himself from picking up pace, to draw it out for as long as possible, forever, if he could, but there was no way to hold back. The intensity of Nick's taste was quite literally driving him wild. Right now, he was as good as ready to eat the detective alive, and not just metaphorically speaking.

He clawed his hands deep into the Grimm's hips, firmly holding them down and stopping them from bucking up as he was sucking and licking, striking up an almost frantic rhythm. Nick was way beyond the ability to utter anything coherent at this point. He was shaking all over, his hands helplessly clasping Monroe's curls.

".. please ..don't stop.."

The Blutbad was hoping there would be some hair left on his head by the end of this whole amazing, crazy scene, but he didn't want Nick to stop. He didn't want _anything_  to stop. All of it, every little detail, was pure perfection.

".. not ..planning to.." Monroe growled, breathlessly, looking up for a second to catch a glimpse of Nick's flushed face, his eyes clenched shut.

He finally felt Nick tense against his hands and lips and sucked even harder until the detective jerked and cried out and Monroe could feel sweet wet heat filling his mouth. He swallowed it to the very last drop, delirious from the sensual overload when he finally pressed his face into Nick's thigh, struggling to catch his breath. He felt Nick's hands gradually loosen up and softly stroke his hair a couple of times, and then Nick was still.

Monroe slowly sat up, wiping his mouth and looking down at his friend. Nick was sprawled out on the bed, panting heavily, his eyes still shut but relaxed now, and there was the most beautiful, blissful smile on his face. Monroe stared at him, spellbound.

A minute passed and Monroe was expecting Nick to open his eyes at some point, but it didn't happen. He furrowed his brow. Nick's breathing was growing calmer by the second and soon it was perfectly regular. The Blutbad shook his head in disbelief. This was impossible. Nick couldn't just fall  _asleep_  on him like that! His whole body was aching and begging to be satisfied, and Monroe felt tempted to shake the Grimm awake and remind him that this was not a one-way street and that, in all fairness, it was  _Nick_  who mentioned something about wanting to swallow in the first place.

But then he thought better of it. The poor guy needed all the rest he could get.

Monroe could not help but smile, despite the complaints he was receiving from his groin. He drew the blanket over his friend, careful not to disturb him, then slowly let himself down on the pillow next to him. This was typical Nick. The Grimm was great at getting what he needed from him, and not so great at returning favours. But Monroe never complained. Just being there for Nick had always been good enough, and it was more than good enough right now.

Still, he couldn't exactly sleep like this.

Monroe sighed, letting his hand slide down his body. He felt a little guilty watching Nick while doing  _this_ , but, in the end, it was  _his_  bed, and where else was he supposed to look?

When he was finished Monroe switched off the light, wrapped his clean hand around Nick's waist and closed his eyes. For a second, the question whether Nick would really appreciate finding himself here in the morning crossed his mind, but he chased it away. This moment was too perfect to be spoiled. And, in all honesty, he was way too tired to give  _anything_  a serious thought right now.

"I love you", Monroe whispered just before he fell asleep.

* * *

A/N 2: So, yeah. Shall I continue with this story or work on my other one? Opinions please.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't think I ever managed to publish 2 chapters in 24 hours before! I hope you like the way this story is developing.. please review :)

Monroe woke up because bright daylight was shining in his eyes, and also because something was tickling his nose.

He opened his eyes, surprised to find it buried in thick, dark hair. Then he remembered.

Monroe smiled and took a deep breath. Nick’s hair smelled wonderful. Nick’s _everything_ smelled wonderful. This was _exactly_ how he wanted to wake up every single morning for the rest of his life.

He pressed a light kiss to Nick’s forehead and moved away a little to be able to see his face. The Grimm looked so peaceful now. Monroe wished to put this moment into a golden frame, to make it so that Nick would never have to worry about anything again.

The clockmaker realised that his hand was still resting on the detective’s waist and he gently stroked down to his hip. Nick’s skin was so beautiful, so soft. Monroe wanted to let his hand slide down a little further, but at that moment the other man stirred and his eyelids fluttered open.

For a few seconds Nick was lying still, looking at him out of half-opened eyes. Then, suddenly, his eyes narrowed – before flying wide open, and the detective jumped out of bed in one single motion, stumbling backwards and staring at Monroe in utter shock.

“What- What the hell? What am I-?”

The clockmaker instantly sat up, mirroring the Grimm’s distress in his own face. The deep contentment he had felt only a second ago was already blown away and replaced by a startled confusion. Nick looked to the left, then to the right, frantically, as if hoping to find an explanation hidden somewhere in the room, then returned his horrified gaze to his friend.

“Monroe?!?”

The Blutbad felt his heart stop and freeze in his chest, from where the icy numbness started to spread throughout his body, immobilising him. He was completely unprepared for this. He opened his mouth, closed it, opened it once again, hoping that maybe this time around some appropriate words might come out.

“Nick..”

Monroe swallowed hard, his throat feeling as dry as a bucketload of sand.

“D-do..”, he muttered, struggling to get his tongue to move, “do you remember.. _anything_.. that happened?”

“Something _happened_?” Nick’s eyes grew even wider, if this was at all possible. “ _What_ happened!?”

Now it was Monroe looking around the room in a desperate attempt to escape the detective’s punishing stare. He was not used to getting involved in spontaneous sexual activity these days, and he was _even less_ used to explaining and justifying it afterwards.

“ _What_ happened, Monroe!?”

The initial panic in Nick’s voice seemed to be giving way to anger, and Monroe was not sure he preferred that option.

“Well.. um.. nothing that you didn’t want..”.

Monroe decided that it would be best to remain as vague as possible.

“WANT?”, the detective shouted and Monroe flinched like from a blow in the face. “I don’t even know what you’re _talking_ about. The last thing I remember I was sat downstairs on the fucking sofa. And now..” – he made a shaky, sweeping gesture in the air – “I’m here! What the _fuck_ is that?”

“It’s really not- uh.. not as bad as it looks”, Monroe stammered, feeling that things were getting worse by the second, and he had no idea what to say or do to improve them. Or even to just get out of this.

“Not as _bad_? We were _in bed_ together!”

Yes, Nick was definitely angry now.

“Okay, look man”, Monroe raised his hands in an appeasing gesture. Obviously, the vague approach wasn’t working too well. “ _You_ came here in the middle of the night. I was _sleeping_. You _woke_ me and then you _kissed_ me, and _touched_ me, in.. _places_ , and-“

“ _Liar!_ ”, Nick spat. “I’d never do that, you know that. You _know_ that! I’m not _gay_!”

“You didn’t seem to mind last night..”, Monroe tried, scratching his head. He really wanted this to go away now. He didn’t care where or how. He just couldn’t take Nick’s accusations anymore.

“Well, then obviously something was _very wrong_ with me!” Nick’s eyes were shooting lightning bolts at him, piercing Monroe’s heart. “Did you not see that? How did you not _see_ that? And now you’re not even man enough to tell me what you _did_ to me?”

Monroe had never seen him like this before, almost apoplectic with rage. He drew his head as far in between his shoulders as anatomically possible.

“I swear, I _tried_ not to..”, he mumbled in a last, desperate attempt to defend himself. But deep down, he could already felt guilt bubbling hot in his stomach and slowly rising to the surface. Of course, Nick was right. He _did_ know that something was wrong, and he _still_ did not manage to stop himself, _him_ , a Wieder Blutbad who was supposed to be in control of his animal nature!

“Well, you should have tried _harder_!”, Nick yelled.

Suddenly, a doubt flickered over his face and he looked down on himself.

“OH SHIT!”

Obviously, it was just now that he realised he was only wearing an open shirt, and absolutely nothing from the waist down.

“SHIT!”

Nick spotted his jeans on the floor by the bed, grabbed them and started pulling them on, so hectically he almost fell over in the process.

Finally, there was something Monroe could do to help the situation. He fished Nick’s boxers from under a pillow – God knows how they had ended up there – and held them out to the Grimm. He wanted to say something conciliatory to the effect that, obviously, this was simply a mistake, a stupid misunderstanding, and that they should both forget it ever happened. But the way Nick furiously snapped his underwear from the Bludbad’s hands and stuffed it into the front pocket of his now zipped up jeans cut off Monroe’s words before they were even spoken.

The detective turned his attention to his shirt and tried to button it up – but realised that most of the buttons were missing. He stared at the ripped placket in his hand, then at the Blutbad, open-mouthed.

“What the _fuck_ , Monroe!?”

This was too much for the clockmaker to handle. He covered his face with his hands, feeling close to tears now. This was not at all what he had wanted, or even expected. The guilt was like acid, eating through his skin.

“I’m sorry”, he whispered. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“I _trusted_ you”, Nick snapped, not at all impressed by the Blutbad’s apologies. “I came here because I had nowhere else to go. And you took advantage, like _this_?”

“I’m sorry, Nick”, Monroe bit down on his lip, so hard that he drew blood. He did not know anything else to think or to say. “Forgive me.”

“Is this why you pretended to be my friend all along? Because you were waiting for an opportunity to get me into your bed? You’re _disgusting_.”

Monroe could only shake his head, unable to speak. He really didn’t want to cry in front of Nick. And there were no words that could ever express how much he hated himself right now, hated what and who he was, and what it did to his life.

There was a pause and Monroe was silently begging Nick to punch him, to shoot him, anything, as long as it stopped the reproaches from pouring. The Grimm’s words were hurting more than physical pain ever could. But Nick did not deign to touch him.

“Don’t ever come anywhere near me again”, he finally said, quietly now. And this was worse than all the shouting and the yelling. “You understand?”

Monroe stopped shaking his head and nodded, not daring to take his hands away from his face.

A moment passed and he heard footsteps leaving the room, and then the front door slammed shut a few seconds later.

Monroe sank back into the pillows and finally let out a sob, unable to hold back tears any longer. He felt like the worst creature that ever walked the earth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SIGH. I started this story because I wanted to write something light-hearted and just for fun, but it seems I just can't leave the angst alone. Also, it appears that I really like to make Monroe suffer. Poor Monroe. The next chapter is gonna be a bit lighter, I hope.
> 
> One thing I really love about writing is learning to describe things that are so natural in everyday life that you don't know how to express them! Today, I learned that the bit on a shirt where the buttons and the button holes are located is called placket! Did you know that it even has a name? :)
> 
> P.S.: Please let me know if you notice any mistakes or weird wording. English is only my third language and I want to improve!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is becoming more plotty than initially intended. But don't worry, there will be some more smut at SOME point ;).
> 
> I don't want this story to become too serious, so I'm not gonna go as deep into the characters as I'm doing in my other Grimm story, so I realise they might not be entirely realistic. Oh well. 
> 
> Thanks a lot for the reviews, it's what's keeping me motivated to write this :). Please let me know how you like this chapter..

As much as Monroe would have liked to stay in bed and pretend not to exist all day – and the next day, and the one after – he knew it was impossible. He had a gig in the city centre at midday and was pretty sure he would go insane if he did not occupy himself with something meaningful.

Besides, there was the strong smell of various bodily fluids emanating from the bed, something he thoroughly enjoyed when he first woke up, but now it was making him nauseous.

Monroe got up, wiping the wetness from his eyes, took off all bedding, stuffed it into the washing machine and selected the hottest cycle. He showered and put on fresh clothes, but it did nothing to make him feel any cleaner. Still, at least he managed not to think about Nick for a while, maybe a whole twenty minutes or so.

But as soon as he was stood in front of the bathroom mirror, trying to trim his beard, it all came back to him.

_"Your beard tickles.."_

Monroe flinched and cursed as the blade cut into his skin. He put the trimmer down but kept staring at himself in the mirror. How could he have been so careless and stupid? And not just as far as his personal grooming skills were concerned. He had lost his best friend, his only true friend, and he deserved it every bit. Last night, how could he even  _think_ that Nick would actually want him? The Grimm was right. He was disgusting.

The Blutbad hauled off and slammed his fist into the mirror, shattering it to pieces and slitting his knuckles in the process, but he welcomed the pain. It made him sick to see his own face. Now his hand was bleeding. His cheek was bleeding. His heart was bleeding. And all just because he could not get his idiotic feelings under control! He was not a young pup anymore. He had to get a hold of himself.

Monroe sucked on his bruised knuckles as he went downstairs into the kitchen to fetch a brush and dustpan. Oh, he missed the taste of blood! And not his own. The events of last night made him feel all raw and unhinged, and reminded him that as proficient as he was at keeping up appearances he would never, ever be anything close to human.

The clockmaker cleaned up the broken glass and got out his first aid kit. He was pretty sure that the client would not appreciate if he turned up all covered in blood.

It was no good, he thought as he was bandaging his hand. He had to forget Nick once and for all. Forget his face. Forget the feeling of the detective's skin against his fingertips. Forget the way he sounded when he laughed. Or when he came. Forget the inimitable flagrance of his sweat. Forget his taste that still lingered in Monroe's mouth, even though he already brushed his teeth. Twice. Forget it all. And, for now, focus on something he had to remember: He was supposed to meet Rosalee for lunch this afternoon.

The clockmaker had completely forgotten about it until he looked at his calendar earlier. And, to be honest, he had completely forgotten about Rosalee altogether. Right now, he was glad their relationship had not progressed to any kind of official romantic status yet. Sure, he liked her and enjoyed spending time with her. But it was _nothing_  compared to the way he had felt about Nick last night, this morning, the way he still felt about him, the sentiment flaring up whenever he forgot to focus his mind on something else, sharper than any blade or shard of glass could ever be.

But Monroe was not a coward. He would meet Rosalee in person and draw a line under whatever it was that they had together. Whatever possessed him to think that he could have a normal, stable relationship with another person! He did not even manage to have a stable relationship with  _himself_ at all times. He would meet Rosalee and tell her it was over, and then he would return to the way he was before he met Nick, just a loner who didn't even have to leave the house most days. Obviously, that was the only way for him to exist without hurting anyone.

* * *

When Monroe arrived at the spice shop he stopped for a moment to collect himself, the door handle already cold against his palm. Of course, he wouldn't tell Rosalee  _everything_. That would be madness. He didn't even have to explain himself  _at all_ , but he did prepare a few things he could say to make his change of heart appear more plausible. Monroe opened the door and went inside.

Rosalee was stood behind the counter, bent over an open book. And right next to her, looking at the same book, was Nick. As soon as the door chimed they both looked up and stared at him.

Monroe instantly turned on his heels and walked out. He stood on the other side of the door for a second, trying to recover from what had felt like a bona fide heart attack. What the hell was Nick doing here? And what did he have to talk about with Rosalee?

Well, it wasn't really his concern anymore, Monroe tried to convince himself. He prepared himself to leave, and at that exact moment the door behind him opened and a hand grabbed him by the sleeve, dragging him back into the shop.

"Come on, Monroe", the Fuchsbau's voice was sweet, as always. "We're all adults here. Maybe you can help."

Monroe tried to pull away, but Rosalee could be very strong when she needed to. The Blutbad was not feeling overly adult right now. He just wanted to go sit in a corner and play with his clocks.

He finally gave up struggling to get away and turned to face the Fuchsbau, very careful not to look anywhere else but at her.

"Hey, Rosalee", he spoke as quietly as he could, "Sorry about lunch.. erm.. but I don't think I should be here because.. um.."

The monologue he had prepared in his head turned out to be completely useless now and Monroe was struggling to find the right words. If there  _were_  any right words at all.

"Don't worry, Nick told me."

She gave him a knowing smile, not even bothering to lower her voice.

" _WHAT_?"

Monroe stared at her open-mouthed, feeling his ears burn. How could Nick  _do_  this? Did he not have any shame at all? Though, to be fair, Monroe should have been prepared for this. Nick had never been shy to ask for help whenever he needed it, from whoever was available. Most of the time, Monroe had been the one who was available. But, of course, everything had changed now, forever.

Monroe could not help but throw a quick glace at Nick. The detective seemed to be engrossed in another book now and was ignoring him completely. That was certainly no surprise. What  _did_ surprise the Blutbad, however, was the fact that Nick did not tell him to go away, in these or other, less polite terms. Monroe peered at the page in front of the Grimm, wondering what could be so captivating. Even from where he was standing Monroe could tell that Nick was looking at it upside down.

"Here, let me show you this", Rosalee pulled him further towards the counter, into the danger zone that was Nick's proximity. Monroe let himself be pulled, unwillingly. He had promised Nick not to come anywhere near him, and to keep that promise was the least, and also the only thing he could do for the Grimm from now on. But, of course, the term 'near' was open to interpretation.

Rosalee handed him a little flask and he stared at it, but found it impossible to focus on anything apart from Nick's presence. Right now, he wished he were not a wolf but, say, a camel, or some other animal that could close its nostrils from the inside. Of course, Monroe had always found Nick's scent enchanting, and it had never been a problem. But after he got to savour  _so much_   _of it_  last night he was hopelessly hooked, and even the small dose he was receiving right now – obviously, Nick had only just showered – was enough to send his heart racing. It was not at all a reaction he wanted to encourage by being so close to the other man.

The Blutbad finally managed to convince his brain to process the writing on the label. He tried to ignore how very awkward it was to have Rosalee here _as well_ , awkward in more than one way. With all the manifold stress factors he was being exposed to, he could hardly be expected to fully acknowledge  _all_ of them.

" _Herzschmerz-Elixir_.. Okay.. What is this? Why are you showing me th-"

"Nick found this in the trailer and took some yesterday", Rosalee explained.

It was incredibly strange to have Rosalee talk to him about Nick,  _in front_  of Nick. Monroe was someone who at times felt socially awkward just walking to the shop for some milk. So, right now, he could not get rid of the impression that he was starring in some awfully trashy Hollywood movie, against his will. He would not pay any money to watch that movie.

He frowned and glanced over at Nick once again.

"Oh, so you  _did_ take something", he noted, cautiously, careful not to sound reproachful. He had no right to make reproaches.

The Grimm did not respond but flipped over a page, so violently it almost ripped, then once again occupied himself with the task of pretending to read.

"According to the books it's said to relieve heartache", the Fuchsbau mused, "so I don't know why-"

"Okay, wait a second", Monroe interrupted, twisting the bottle in front of his face. He really didn't need to hear any further elaborations from Rosalee. "There's something else written there."

"What?" Rosalee asked, looking over his shoulder. Nick remained silent.

"How do I know? It's tiny."

Monroe put down his toolkit and got out a pair of magnifying eyeglasses. It was lucky he came here straight from the job. He tried again.

"Here we go. ' _Mit Alkohol-'_ oh _.."_ , Monroe blinked. He had a suspicion about the rest of the sentence. He started again: "' _Mit Alkohol eingenommen kann es als ein starkes Aphrodisiakum wirken_ ' ".*

The clockmaker took off his glasses.

"Oh boy."

Nobody needed a translation. The two key words were similar to their English counterparts, and made the meaning of the whole sentence quite clear.

Finally, there was a reaction from Nick. He slammed the book shut and leaned forward, bracing himself against the counter with both hands. And then, to Monroe's surprise, he raised his face and looked up, straight at him. It went through him like an arrow from a Doppelarmbrust. He was glad now that he had forced himself to shower and dress appropriately. He would have hated Nick to see him as messed-up on the outside as he felt on the inside.

There was still some anger in Nick's glare, but nothing of the sort that Monroe had seen in the morning. It seemed the detective had calmed down considerably since he last saw him. And then there was also something else in his eyes, seething beneath the blue-green surface. It looked like a mixture of curiosity and another emotion that Monroe did not take the time to investigate since he looked away as quickly as he could. Whatever it was, it made his fingertips tingle. He decided it would be safer to look at Rosalee instead.

"And what's  _his_ excuse?", Nick grumbled, addressing the Fuchsbau. Obviously, he was not quite ready to talk to Monroe yet.

Rosalee turned and looked at the Blutbad, and there was certainly no doubt that the expression in  _her_  eyes was nothing but pure curiosity.

Monroe stood still for a second, burning under the interested gaze of two pairs of eyes, then decided that this was quite enough for him. He turned around and walked out without another word, and this time no-one tried to stop him.

* * *

* "Taken with alcohol it can be a strong aphrodisiac."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realise now that it's not easy to write two stories for the same fandom and the same pairing, as I'm finding it hard not to use the same ideas and wording as in my other story. Because, of course, what attracts me to this pairing is still the same (scent kink, Monroe's struggle with his inner wolf, the friends to lovers aspect..). So I'm sorry if you read the other story and this is a bit samey!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I was kidding myself when I said that I didn't want to go into the characters last time. I love Monroe way too much not to write a lot of not really relevant stuff from his perspective. So this chapter is a little random and goofy and not what I originally planned for chapter 4, but I like it.. I think? Please review and make my day! :D
> 
> Note: I'm departing from the canon as far as Monroe's and Rosalee's relationship is concerned. Basically, I pretend that episodes 3 & 4 happened (and I'm referring to these in this chapter), but episode 13 DID NOT happen, and Rosalee did not go to see her aunt but was in Portland all this time. Sorry for that. I hate messing with the timeline but otherwise my story wouldn't work (for me).

The rest of the afternoon passed uneventfully for Monroe, which gave him plenty of time to consider all the various ways in which his life sucked right now. None of them was the good way.

So, Nick had only ended up in his bed because of some goddamn stupid Zaubertrank! Monroe still couldn’t wrap his head around it. And he didn’t really _want_ to wrap his head around it. This already hurt bad enough as it was.

_‘I need you, Monroe. Don’t.. stop..’_

None of it was real. Everything the detective had said and done was nothing but a mere side effect of the potion.

Then, at about 6 pm, he received a text from Nick. Well, that was a first! The Blutbad knew for a fact that Nick hated texting. Firstly, because he simply preferred to talk. And secondly, because he was mildly dyslexic, though not many people knew that about him, not even Juliette or Hank. Nick had always trusted Monroe blindly, and he ended up knowing quite a few of the Grimm’s little secrets. Starting with the one about him being a Grimm in the first place.

Not that it mattered anymore. He had lost Nick’s trust forever, and, obviously, the detective hated him even more than he hated texting.

The message read: “Take my stuff to Paramount Hotel & leave at reception”.

No “hi”, no “please”. No syntax.

Monroe typed “ok,” and his index finger kept hovering over the keyboard for a while. Maybe he could add another apology? Or perhaps something completely unrelated, for the sole purpose of eliciting a response? He sighed. It was no good. There was nothing he could ever say to make this right. Monroe deleted the comma and sent the text as it was.

He decided to take care of Nick’s request – or, rather, his order – straight away.

His heart grew heavier with every step as he went upstairs into the loft. Monroe didn’t want to part with the only remaining evidence of Nick in his life. For a moment he even considered keeping one of Nick’s T-Shirts. All of his clothes were clean, of course, but they still smelled a tiny bit like Nick. Then he felt like punching himself for the thought alone. He was done with the inappropriate things. Instead of _stealing_ a shirt from Nick he really ought to _buy_ him one.

Monroe stopped by a shop en route to the hotel and got a new shirt in the same colour and style as the one he had destroyed in the heat of the moment. It wasn’t difficult to chose the correct size. Monroe knew the detective’s shape perfectly.

When he arrived at the hotel the Blutbad was almost unbearably tempted to find Nick’s room. It certainly wouldn’t be a problem to sniff it out. He just wanted to look him in the face once again and see if his eyes still bore that same strange expression he’d seen earlier. Maybe this time around he would dare to explore what it was?

Monroe resisted the temptation, handed the receptionist Nick’s suitcase and left.

It was already getting dark when he returned home, but the thought of eating dinner or going to bed horrified him. He played his cello for as long as he could keep his eyes open, then he curled up on the sofa and drifted off into an uneasy sleep.

* * *

 

He met his friend the squirrel once again. Even that pesky little rodent felt the need to tell him what an idiot he was by repeatedly knocking a hazel-nut against his forehead.

_Knock knock knock_

Monroe tried to catch it, but his human-shaped hands were far too slow, and the wolf inside just refused to come out.

 _What, are you scared of your own claws?,_ the squirrel teased and kept smacking him. Monroe groaned in frustration.

_Knock knock knock_

He finally woke up, slowly pushed himself up and tried to woge, just to see if he could still do it. Yep, everything was fine.

Well. _Nothing_ was fine, but he was _definitely_ still a Blutbad. It was just a dream.

The knocking, however, wasn’t.

Monroe rubbed his eyes and looked around the room. Four of the clocks he could see from the sofa showed nine minutes past one. The fifth showed seven minutes past one. Monroe made a mental note to look into that later. He could hardly believe he had slept into the early afternoon! Obviously, his brain thought that being asleep was more comfortable than being awake, and how could he blame it?

_KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK_

Monroe growled and muttered something that wasn’t comprehensible even to himself. He probably should have gone easier on the wine last night, especially on an empty stomach. Whoever was here to bother him better had a bloody good reason.

He staggered to the front door and flung it open, squinting as the sunlight stabbed him in the eyes.  

Rosalee’s smile was just as sunny.

“Oh.. Morning.”

She mustered him and her expression became a little concerned.

“Morning? Did I _wake_ you?”

Monroe shrugged. It was pretty obvious, and he was suddenly very aware that he was still wearing yesterday’s clothes and that his hair was probably a complete mess. Well, this was embarrassing – but not half as embarrassing as what Rosalee found out about him and Nick, so he didn’t really care.

“You left this at the shop yesterday.”

She handed him his toolkit. Monroe didn’t even realise it had been missing.

“Thanks.” As awkward as things were, Monroe had to admit that it was comforting to see her, and at least she didn’t create the immediate impression that she hated him. “Coffee?”

He was not quite ready for full sentences yet.

Rosalee followed him into the kitchen where he occupied himself with the French press, which, right now, seemed like quite a complex bit of machinery.

“What happened to your hand?”

“Work accident.”

It wasn’t overly plausible, but what was he supposed to say? That he’d been punching things because he couldn’t cope with the heartbreak and the guilt? Surely not.

“Listen, Rosalee, I didn’t get the chance to say it yesterday.. um.. I’m really sorry for..”

He seemed to be apologising an awful lot these days. Well, it was pretty impressive that he managed to hurt everyone he cared about in one fell swoop – Nick and Rosalee and, of course, himself.

“You don’t have to apologise to me, Monroe.”

To his surprise, Rosalee gave a laugh.

“I mean, nothing really happened between us – well, apart from that time when I caught the Fluvus Pestilentia..”

“Story of my life”, Monroe grumbled as he handed her a mug. “People only want to sleep with me when they’re either sick or high on something.”

“I wouldn’t necessarily say that”, Rosalee smirked at him and took a sip. “But then your ex turning up and you being dead and all, it kind of ruined the mood a little bit.”

“Yeah, well, maybe Angelina shouldn’t have woken me up”, Monroe noted darkly as he poured his own coffee.

There was a moment of silence as they both stared into their respective cups and Monroe instantly regretted being overly dramatic, which probably made him look like a complete imbecile. He opened his mouth to try and change the topic, maybe ask about Rosalee’s aunt and whether she had fully recovered from the stroke yet, but the Fuchsbau spoke first.

“You love him very much, don’t you?”

Monroe’s mouth remained open as the mug almost slipped from his hand. Well, that was.. unexpectedly straightforward, and there was no doubt who it was that Rosalee was referring to.

“.. Uhh.. _what_..”

Rosalee smiled.

“.. well, _of course_.. Nick’s a really good friend.. _great_ , even.. or, well, not anymore, I guess.. I mean, not that he’s not _great_ anymore.. uh..”

Rosalee raised an eyebrow.

“.. no, not great in _that_ respect.. uh.. well, _also_ great in _that_ respect, but.. er.. that’s not what I wanted to.. ahh, _screw it_!”

What was he even thinking trying to deceive a _Fuchsbau_? Monroe took a huge gulp from his mug, forgetting that the coffee had not cooled down yet until it burned his throat and he started coughing uncontrollably. This really wasn’t going so well.

“It’s okay, you know”, Rosalee mused when he finally managed to breathe again. “I’ve suspected something for a while.”

“Oh, great!” Monroe wheezed. “That’s just.. _fantastic_.”

He didn’t realise he was being so obvious since, until that awfully misguided night, it hadn’t been clear even to _himself_ just how much he really cared for the Grimm. And now Monroe could not help but wonder if, maybe, Nick had noticed something as well. He was a cop, after all, and it was part of his job to read unspoken cues.

_‘Don't you want me?’_

Nick must have known, at least subconsciously.

_‘Is this why you pretended to be my friend all along?’_

Monroe squinched up his face. This was too painful. He tried to steer the conversation into a slightly different direction.

“So if you knew, then.. why did you agree to have dinner with me?”

“Well, you know, Fuchsbaus aren’t exactly monogamous”, she gave him another playful smile. “But, I suppose, Blutbaden are.”

The clockmaker sighed and put down his cup.

“It doesn’t really matter anyway, he hates me now, so..”

Obviously, this conversation wasn’t getting steered anywhere.

“I don’t think he does”, Rosalee tilted her head a little, mustering him. “He didn’t sound all that angry when he called me this morning, more like.. confused. He _did_ ask quite a few questions..”

“Ah”, Monroe did his best to sound indifferent. “Questions.”

“You know, whether I was aware that you were into guys _as well_ , and how things were going between us, that kind of stuff.”

“I see.. and you..?”

So much for indifference.

“Well, I said yes, kind of, and also that you and me were just good friends. Was that the right thing to say?”

Rosalee finished her coffee and gave him an encouraging look.

“I suppose..”.

Monroe was relieved to find that, apparently, Rosalee wasn’t as interested in him as he’d thought. Relieved, and also a little bit insulted. But mostly relieved. The Fuchsbau threw a quick glance at her watch.

“Oh, I need to go and open up the shop. Thanks for the coffee.”

Monroe took her mug and placed it into the sink.

“No, thank _you_ for dropping off my stuff and.. well.. still talking to me, I guess.”

She smiled and made her way to the front door; Monroe followed, opening it for her. When Rosalee stepped out she turned around once again and there was a comforting warmth in her eyes.

“Don’t beat yourself up too much”, she said, gently. “Nick knows he’d been very stupid messing with a Zaubertrank. He’s a big boy, he’ll get over it. Just give him some time.”

“Thanks”, Monroe muttered.

His mind got side-tracked as soon as Rosalee mentioned something about _big boy_ and, unexpectedly, he found himself suppressing a little grin when he closed the door after her.

* * *

 

As comforting – though, to about the same extent, confusing – as Rosalee’s visit had been, Monroe still didn’t feel like leaving the house for the next couple of days. Thankfully, he had enough work and food piled up to allow him to lead a hermit’s existence for quite a while.

Rosalee might have indicated that Nick would forgive him at some point, but so far there had been no sign of it. Monroe had not heard a single word from the detective – which, of course, wasn’t unexpected. But that didn’t make it any easier to bear. The Blutbad was used to seeing Nick almost every day, and now it just felt like a part of him was missing. And not just _any_ part. The _important_ part.

As much as Monroe had enjoyed their unexpected encounter at two o’clock in the morning, he wished nothing more than to undo it all, to go back to the way things were and continue being the Grimm’s trusted sidekick, to be able to see him, to _smell_ him, to be there for him when no-one else could. He had it all, and he gave it up, for what? Just one night of holding him in his arms, one blissful, but ultimately pointless and destructive night.

Well, even if there _were_ any Wesen that could turn back time, they certainly weren’t coming to knock on his door.

In the end, after about a week of solitude, only briefly interspersed with short phone calls and visits from Rosalee, Monroe felt like climbing up the walls and decided it was time to stop feeling sorry for himself and go out. There was a new exotic fruit & veg shop opening in town and that seemed like a good enough opportunity. Incidentally, it was located right next to the Paramount Hotel. That, of course, was a complete coincidence.

On the way there Monroe decided that even if he were to run into Nick – which, of course, was extremely unlikely – and also definitely not at all his intent – he would simply hide behind a shelf, or something to that effect. If Nick didn’t want to see him then, of course, it was not his place to force him to. He would definitely not _speak_ to Nick, so there was no point in even _thinking_ what he might say.

And still, Monroe could not stop himself from creating make-believe dialogues in his head as he was strolling through the aisles whilst taking stock and thinking up a few new recipes at the same time. He was pretty good at multitasking. Until he saw Nick standing in front of one the shelves, about twenty feet away, and then he could not even perform the one single, elementary task of breathing.

All of Monroe’s best laid plans instantly went out of the window. He stood still, watching the young man pick up a mangosteen and inspect it from all angles. Nick had that infinitely adorable expression on his face. It suggested he had not the faintest idea what he was dealing with, but was trying hard to understand. It reminded Monroe of the first few weeks and months of their acquaintance, when Nick was still struggling to get to grips with all the intricacies of the Wesen world, and how delicious it was that him, a _Blutbad_ , had been the one to help the Grimm learn his grimmly ways.

The detective seemed to decide against the piece of fruit and picked up a small cassava root instead, put it down again and selected one that was long and thick. Monroe swallowed as some inappropriate but utterly pleasant images flooded his mind.

And then Nick must have felt something – trust a Grimm to have a sixth sense! – because he suddenly turned his head and looked straight at the Blutbad.

It was too late to hide, and even if Monroe had wished to move, he couldn’t; he was already glued to the spot by the detective’s eyes. The only thing he managed at this point was giving himself a mental slap. Now Nick was probably thinking that he was _stalking_ him or something, and it did absolutely nothing to improve matters.

For a few moments they simply stood there and looked at each other, and Monroe fully expected Nick to turn away and walk off, ignoring him. But, to his astonishment, the exact opposite happened. For some reason Monroe’s brain decided to process the events in slow motion as the detective walked towards him, probably to give him a good amount of time to think of something to say, but it was all in vain. His head felt completely empty all of a sudden, apart from the echo of his own heartbeat.  

“Hi, Monroe.”

Just hearing his own name from the detectives’s lips instantly lifted his heart to a place that he never, ever wanted to leave. When had he managed to become so hopelessly infatuated with him?

“Hi. Nick.”

Monroe congratulated himself on being able to say one-syllable words at least. This was a good start.

“I thought this might be _your_ kind of place”, Nick noted quite randomly and his face looked a little bit like it was struggling with itself and could not decide whether to smile or to frown. “I’ve never even _seen_ half of this stuff before.”

It almost sounded like Nick had _expected_ to meet him here. But, surely, that was just wishful thinking.

“I can give you a tour if you want.”

Was this too much? It was probably too much.

“Thanks, I think I’ll pass”, the detective gave a short laugh as he stuck his hands into the front pockets of his hoodie. “Takeaway it is then –  again.”

The clockmaker wanted nothing more than to invite him for dinner right here, right now. But that would _most definitely_ be too much. Also, his house was a complete mess, which was not an unfitting metaphor for his state of mind.

“So, how have you been?” Nick asked in a pointedly casual tone, looking up at Monroe and reminding him how much he had missed to sink into those blue-green eyes. And he’d never even learned how to swim.

“Yeah, fine. Great. Well, not _great_ , but, you know. _Life_.”

The Blutbad wasn’t sure what kind of response Nick expected to hear regarding his well-being, so he tried to cover all his bases.

“How about you? Any interesting cases?”

“No, it’s pretty quiet at the moment actually.”

“Ah. Okay.”

“Yeah.”

They both started looking around and surveying the weirdly shaped and coloured produce on the shelves with suddenly renewed interest. This must have been the very first time there had ever been an awkward silence between them. Normally, they would just talk about a case. And even if there were no case, Monroe felt so comfortable in the Grimm’s company that conversational topics seemed to come naturally, which was one of the things he loved about being with Nick. But now he was so gobsmacked the detective was talking to him in the first place that he could not for the life of him think of anything to talk _about_. Besides, he seemed to be floating on a cloud made of Nick’s scent and it caused a reduced blood flow to his head area.

But, finally, Monroe found something. It was obvious. How had it taken him so long to ask this?

“Any progress with Juliette?”

“No.”

“She still doesn’t remember?”

“No.”

“And the.. um.. other guy?”

“I don’t know.”

Nick shrugged. Obviously, this wasn’t such a good subject after all and Monroe was desperately looking for an alternative when Nick turned to face him again, lowering his voice a little as he spoke.

“But listen.. uh.. my own memories had been coming back regarding the.. you know..”

Suddenly, Monroe didn’t need to worry about the blood flow to his head any longer.

“Oh. _Oh._ Okay, that’s.. um..” – he wanted to say _good_ , but he wasn’t sure if it was actually good or not – “.. I see.”

“So I wanted you to know that.. well..”, Nick seemed to have discovered something thoroughly fascinating about his shoes since he looked down and started to examine them in great detail, “.. I can’t really blame you too much after I remembered how I.. uh-”

“OH, DUDE”, Monroe interrupted him and it came out way too loud. “I’m so glad to hear that, you can’t even _imagine_!”

Indeed, he felt more relieved than he could even process at that point. But, also, he just really needed Nick to stop talking now. It was certainly the first time he had ever been prompted to discuss details of his sex life in between two vegetable shelves, in the middle of a thankfully not overly crowded shop. Monroe was hoping it would be the last time as well. However, it seemed that Nick wasn’t quite finished yet.

“.. and some of the things I said to you in the.. uh.. morning were not very fair, so I’m sorry for that..”

“No, you really have nothing to apologise for Nick.. it was all my mistake..”

The Blutbad lowered his gaze and also started inspecting Nick’s shoes. Nick was right. They were indeed an interesting object of study.

“.. just a stupid, stupid mistake..”

“.. yeah..”

Monroe had not even noticed how their voices had been dropping gradually, and now they were almost whispering:

".. it won't happen again.."

".. no.."

".. look, Nick -"

_ANY FREE STAFF MEMBER TO TILL FOUR PLEASE!!_

They both almost jumped into the air as the announcement came over the loudspeakers and beamed at each other once again. Monroe had never seen Nick blushing like this. Well, apart from _that_ one time. He was also quite aware that his own face almost certainly bore a very similar hue.

“Look, I really need to go”, Nick took a step back and started gesticulating in a manner that wasn’t at all typical for him, “because.. work..”

“Yeah, definitely, me too”, Monroe was eager to agree, “me too. I just needed – this”, he grabbed a vegetable at random from a nearby box and waved it in the air. “And then I have to go home and take care of that huge _cock_ that someone sent me, from Japan, actually, which is really unusual because they do like their digital st-“

Monroe saw Nick’s eyebrows shoot up, and then he realised what he had just said.

“ _CLOCK_! I mean _clock_ , of course!” He stared at the other man, open-mouthed, hoping that the ground would open up and swallow him whole. “OH GOD!”

Nick stared back, but only for a fraction of a second.

“Goodbye, Monroe.”

He turned on his heels and walked off at a somewhat hasty pace.

“Wait a second-“

The clockmaker stretched out a hand to stop Nick, but he was already out the doors. Monroe then used that same hand to slap himself across the forehead. Repeatedly. Terrific! There was his chance to make things right, and he ruined it, _again_. Why did he always have to be such a goddamn _weirdo_?

Monroe paid for whatever he had picked up and crawled home. As much as it was possible to crawl whilst driving a car.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Writing this I was wondering whether this is really OOC or not. Somehow I feel like I'm in my own Monroe-verse now, he he. Hope you enjoy.

Monroe had just finished pushing some sliced carrots around a frying pan and wondering whether his appetite would ever come back when there was a knock on the door.

He glanced at his watch and almost instantly his heart rate began to overtake the sweep hand. He didn't even realise he was running so late preparing dinner; it was almost nine o'clock. Monroe only knew  _one_ person who didn't give a damn what time of the day – or night – it was when it came to phone calls or visits.

He stepped away from the cooker and wiped his hands on the apron. His palms felt damp all of a sudden; well, there  _was_ too much chili in the food when he tried it a minute ago.

Had Nick really come to see him, despite the slight – or, maybe, not so slight _–_ awkwardness of their last encounter. Did it mean they were mates again? Could he just behave  _normally_  now, or was he still supposed to show some remorse?

Monroe had never had a friend as close as Nick before. He had also never had a friend he was secretly in love with, though the term _secretly_  was maybe not so accurate anymore. He honestly had no idea how he was expected to behave. Maybe he was just overthinking it, like he was  _always_ overthinking things. What could go wrong? The house looked okay.  _He_  looked okay, not as disheveled inside and out as in the first few days after.. well, he really didn't want to think about  _that_ again.

The clockmaker dropped his spatula and rushed to the door before Nick had a chance to change his mind. Even before he opened it he could already  _smell_ him, exhilarated that Nick had come now and not in the morning, straight after his shower. Exhilarated, and also embarrassed. He really should stop even _thinking_  about Nick like that. It wasn't _healthy_.

Monroe opened the door, and this time he received a real smile, not a weird frown-smile like last time. He could not help but grin himself, forgetting to consider if it was appropriate to show his emotions like this. It was simply  _wonderful_  to see Nick, like waking up from a bad dream and realising that life was still good and there were pancakes for breakfast.

"Come in."

They went through to the living room and Nick let himself sink down onto the sofa. Monroe decided that he would feel more comfortable standing. Was it alright where he stood now? Or was it too close? Or, maybe, awkwardly far? Could someone just  _tell_ him what to do!

"Look, if it's inconvenient right now.."

Nick's gaze was focused somewhere on his chest area and Monroe realised that he was still wearing an apron.

"Don't worry, I just finished cooking actually.."

He undid the bow at the back and pulled the apron over his head. This was unusual. Since when did Nick care whether it was  _convenient_ for him? In fact, despite the initial smile Nick seemed slightly..  _off_. Not upset, like that night when he moved in, and not angry, like in the morning after, just..  _off_. Well, it was no surprise, considering all the bad things that were happening to the poor Grimm lately. Monroe felt deeply ashamed that one of those things was  _him_. But he would make it up to Nick.  _Somehow_.

"Um.. would you like to eat?"

Nick shook his head.

"Thanks, I already had dinner."

The clockmaker mustered him.

"I'm not sure MacDonalds counts as dinner."

Judging by the way Nick looked to the side and scratched his head Monroe couldn't have been too far off. He sighed. When it came to food, Nick really had the taste of a twelve-year-old sometimes. Obviously, not being in a stable relationship was not doing him any favours, as he looked paler than usual. Of course, if Nick were his then Monroe would take care of him and make sure he ate enough vitamins and-.. God, he really needed to keep his  _thoughts_  in check!

"Beer?"

Nick gave a short laugh.

"I don't think so."

The Blutbad bit his lip.  _Of course_  Nick wouldn't have a drink with him, after what happened last time he drank at his place. He waited a short while to see if the Grimm would start talking – there must have been some sort of reason for his visit – but Nick remained silent and seemed to avoid looking him in the face. This was  _also_ unusual but, at least, Monroe wasn't lost for words today. Obviously, the additional Pilates sessions were paying off and he had himself pretty well under control. Though he still had to learn to stop his mind from racing just looking at the young man's shape on the sofa.

"So, I suppose, you're still at that hotel?", he asked, cautiously. This was more or less the same as asking Nick whether he was still separated from Juliette, and last time the detective did not react so well to that question. But, surely, this was the reason he looked a little lost right now, so wouldn't it be good to talk about it?

"Yeah", Nick leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs and staring at his hands. "But I already started looking for a flat near work."

"Oh, well, that seems like a good idea for now", Monroe responded, automatically, but it felt as if something clenched his heart, something big and strong, like a Siegbarste hand. He  _hated_  to see Nick like this, so quiet and.. strangely thrown off the track. Whatever the track was. To know that there wasn't much he could do for the Grimm, especially now that their friendship was a little shaky.

But what he hated even  _more_  was that irrational relief he felt deep down, relief that Nick was not with Juliette, and that it now seemed like they weren't getting back together anytime soon. What kind of a horrible, horrible individual _was_  he?

"So, um..", Monroe did his very best to sound concerned for his friend, which he  _was_ , apart from that awfully jealous little part of him that he just couldn't extinguish completely. "I'm sure Rosalee has spoken to you already, well, last time I met her she seemed to have thought of something that might help with Juliette's memory, so, I suppose, you already tried it and it didn't work, but maybe-"

"Look, I don't want to  _talk_ about her!", Nick suddenly interrupted him, then seemed to realise it came out too sharply, since he apologised and continued, much calmer. " _Sorry_. Yes, Rosalee told me, but no, we didn't try it, because.. obviously, Juliette has someone else and I don't want to interfere. I haven't even  _spoken_  to her for a few days now. So.."

Monroe was more than surprised to hear this.

"What, you're just gonna  _give up_  like that?"

This was so very unlike Nick, the strong-willed and positive-thinking Nick he knew and admired. Why would he simply resign when it came to the woman he loved?

Nick shrugged.

"There's not so much left to give up."

"Oh. Hmm. That's..", Monroe was about to tell him off for even  _thinking_ like that and note that, obviously, he was grieving and that's why he was saying stupid stuff – but then he decided to leave it. The last thing he wanted was forcing Nick to talk about something that upset him. Though, to be fair, the detective didn't really appear grieving or upset right now. More like.. Monroe wasn't sure.

"Well - is there anything I can do for you?"

Nick finally looked up at him with those beautiful big eyes and rubbed both hands on his knees. And then Monroe could put a finger on it. The Grimm looked really,  _really_  nervous. No wonder it took him a while to figure it out. He'd never seen Nick  _nervous_ like this before. Agitated, yes. Confused, yes. Even genuinely scared, once or twice. But when it came to nerves he usually hid them pretty well behind an extra portion of determination. What did Nick have to be so nervous about? True, the atmosphere was still a little awkward between them, but everything had been sufficiently clarified and discussed, apologies had been made, so, surely, it was just a question of time until things went back to normal?

"Yes.. actually".

"Good." Monroe was glad. He  _wanted_ to help. "Good, what is it?"

Maybe Nick wanted him to do something slightly inappropriate, such as showing his woge to Juliette, like he'd already asked once before? Maybe that was why he was being so strange?

"I still haven't had an answer to my question. What was  _your_  excuse?"

Monroe blinked.

"My excuse for wh-  _oh_."

The Siegbarste hand that was clenching his heart earlier now moved down to his stomach, painfully twisting his insides. This was.. unexpected. Was Nick _not_  of the opinion that everything had been sufficiently clarified and discussed?

"Look man, do we really need to talk about this again?"

Monroe turned away from him and started rearranging the clocks and various other knick-knacks on top of a nearby chest of drawers. Anything to take his mind off those memories. He didn't  _want_ to think about Nick like  _this_. He didn't  _want_  to look at Nick now and remember how delicious he tasted underneath all those clothes. How much he  _needed_  to taste him again. So much that he barely managed to put anything else into his mouth.

"I thought you weren't angry with me anymore."

Why was Nick  _forcing_  him to remember?

"I'm not. But I have to know."

Randomly, Monroe picked up one of the two snow domes that his parents had given him back in primary school. It was high time to de-clutter his house. And his mind. If Nick just  _let_  him.

"I just wanted to help you sleep, that's all."

He cringed.  _Right._  This definitely deserved a spot in the top five most ludicrous things he'd ever said.

"It worked, no?", he tried to justify it, well aware that he was digging himself deeper into that hole of outright idiocy. And, unsurprisingly, Nick did not seem too impressed with the explanation.

"I  _remember_ , Monroe. You said you've always  _wanted_  me. Is that true?"

Monroe flinched as the little globe burst in his hand, glass splinters cutting deep into his palm. He didn't even realise that his claws had come out, which meant that his grip was so much stronger now. The Blutbad felt quite indignant all of a sudden. How many times was he going to hurt himself because of Nick? The detective didn't even seem to  _notice_.

"What does it matter", he growled as he put down the shards, licking his wounds. "Why are you  _doing_  this. Am I not trying hard enough to make things right?"

It wasn't even like they'd had full-on sex. Just a little bit of kissing.. in various places. Was it really so difficult for Nick to get over it?

"Did we not agree it was a  _mistake_? Can't we forget all about it and just be friends again."

There was a little silence before Nick's response came.

"No."

And instantly, all of Monroe's anger evaporated and everything dropped inside him. There was nothing left but emptiness as he was thrown back into his human form.

"Of course", he mumbled. "I understand. Completely."

He started arranging the objects in front of him by height, from left to right, ignoring all the broken glass and spilt water that was already mixing with the blood dripping from his palm. Nick would probably leave any minute now, and then he could clean up. Or, maybe, destroy a few more things. What was he even  _thinking_ building his hopes up? It was obvious that he no longer deserved Nick's friendship.

But the Grimm did not make any moves to leave. Instead, he reiterated the obvious.

"I don't want to be friends."

"Yes, I got that part", Monroe noted, bitterly. Did Nick _have_  to continue punishing him?

"No, I don't think you  _did_."

Monroe did not reply but continued focusing on the task at hand. Two of the little clocks were almost the same height and he could not decide in what order to put them. His fingers were trembling a little, and he wasn't even sure why.

Nick finally broke the silence once again, though  _broke_  was maybe not a suitable term considering how quiet his voice was.

"You know.. um.. I did some further research regarding that stuff I took.. which by the way was really, really stupid, I  _know_.. Rosalee gave me a right telling-off.. anyway.. according to the books it can eliminate inhibitions, but it can't make you.. um..  _like_  someone that you didn't like anyway.. so.. well.. I've been doing a lot of thinking.. about  _you_."

Monroe closed his eyes, and that was really the only movement he was capable of right now. Something crazy was going on. There had been enough crazy in his life lately. He needed the crazy to go away.

"Are you not gonna say  _anything_? Please, I really don't know how to  _do_  this."

"I'm sorry", Monroe plunked down whatever object he was holding. His hands were shaking considerably now, as was his voice, and at the same time he felt as tense as if a dozen full moon nights had come all at once. "I don't even know  _what_ you are trying to do. So how can I help you?"

"Oh, come on, Monroe", Nick's voice stopped being so awfully quiet and became slightly impatient. "You're the most intelligent guy I've ever met. How much harder are you gonna make this for me? Don't you think it's  _already_  hard for me? I'm  _sorry_ I've been so..  _difficult_ , I already apologised, right? I was just really  _confused_. So if you want to punish me for that, fine. Consider me punished. Just  _say_  something."

"Alright, Nick", Monroe braced himself against the chest of drawers. Obviously, Nick had gone mad, and he had no idea what to do with a mad Grimm on his sofa. He needed to hold on to his own sanity. "I will say  _this_. You are behaving abnormally. So I am going to call Rosalee straight away and see if she can make you something to counteract these apparent aftereffects of-"

"Don't bother", Nick stopped him abruptly. "She already gave me something, the very next day, actually. I'm sober. I haven't even touched a drop of alcohol since..  _then_.."

"Well, that's good. Really good", Monroe listened to his own voice talking, without any conscious input from his mind. He felt a little bit like sleepwalking, and sleep _talking_ , as if his brain just refused to process this situation and allowed his mouth to act of its own accord. "You know, there are actually some Wesen for whom even a small amount of alcohol is toxic, like Faultiere, for example, man they totally flip their lid and then they start running into trees and whatnot, not that I've ever come across one, which is alright, I guess, because they wouldn't be very entertaining to hang out with a-"

"Monroe,  _stop it_!"

There was a new, intense note in Nick's voice that cut Monroe off, as if piercing his throat. His knees felt weak all of a sudden and he clawed his fingers into the solid wood in front of him.

" _Listen_."

It was almost a plea, and the clockmaker exhaled sharply, desperately trying to get his heartbeat under control. He sweated out of every pore. He did not  _want_  to listen. Yes, he might have done a few stupid things lately, but he was definitely not dumb enough to fall for exactly the same trick  _twice_.

"I'm not saying it's definitely gonna work. This is all completely..  _new_  to me. But it wasn't just the Zaubertrank. There is..  _something_  there, so why don't we.." Nick paused for a second and sighed. "I missed you very much, you know."

The last bit was said so gently it made Monroe's stomach do a breathless somersault, and then he could almost believe it. Almost. He swallowed the lump in his throat, and found that he was no longer able to deal with all those conflicting emotions tugging at his insides, which made them all suddenly turn into anger. Anger that Nick was  _messing_  with him like this.

"You don't even know what you're _saying_!", he snapped and finally whirled around to scowl at Nick. "Either you're _kidding_  me, or the situation with Juliette has really caused some serious damage to your head -"

"Can you shut up about Juliette already? God!", Nick jumped up from the sofa and Monroe could see his own anger reflected in the Grimm's eyes. That was okay. He could deal with anger. "Did you not listen to me? She doesn't even  _want_ me! What's with your obsession with my ex lately?"

"And what's with  _your_  obsession with screwing with my head lately?", Monroe spat. "Metaphorically, speaking." He considered it for another moment. "And  _also_  literally!"

They stared at each other for a few seconds, both breathing heavily, until Monroe looked away, suddenly overcome with sadness. This was not at all what he wanted. Not _fighting_  with Nick. Why couldn't everything just be.. simple once again. Simple was good.

"Look, Nick", he tried, calmer, clenching his eyes and rubbing the bridge of his nose between two fingers. "I would do anything for you man. You  _know_  that. I'd give my  _life_  for you any day. But I'm not going to be your consolation prize just because your girlfriend dumped you."

Monroe could hardly believe what came out of his own mouth. He wanted to take his mouth to the side and have a quiet word with it as to what the  _fuck_  it was doing turning Nick down, when this was all he'd ever dreamed of. Well, maybe not  _ever_. But for the whole of the last year for sure. But then his mouth would probably reply that it was doing the right thing, because, for once, it  _had_  to do the right thing, even if it killed Monroe. Which, right now, it certainly did.

" _What_?" Nick sounded genuinely insulted. "That's not how it is  _at all_."

"Well it certainly sounds an awful lot like it."

The Blutbad gazed at him once again. He had to do this with his eyes open. Nick looked utterly confused and red-faced, and under different circumstances Monroe would have found that he looked absolutely  _adorable_ , but, right now, that door was firmly shut and he was leaning against it with all of his limbs.

"Why are you  _being_ like this?" Nick stuck his hands in his pockets, then got them out again. "I thought this is what you  _wanted_."

"No, Nick. Being friends is what I wanted. Not.." Monroe made a sweeping gesture in the air, feeling himself getting agitated once again. When would Nick finally  _get it_. "Not this _mess_ , not you doing some thinking for a  _week_ , a week where I don't even hear a single word from you, by the way, how do you think that  _felt_ , and then you suddenly decide that there is 'something'! Really? ' _Something_ '? Well, Nick, that's  _so_  romantic. Excuse me if I can barely contain my enthusiasm."

"What did you expect me to say, Monroe?" All of a sudden, Nick was yelling. "Should I have asked you to marry me, or  _what_?"

"Are you  _stupid_?" Monroe yelled back. Why should yelling be Nick's prerogative? He could yell pretty damn fine himself. "I never expected  _anything_  from you! Right from the start I've been just giving and giving, and when have I ever,  _ever_  wanted anything in return, huh?"

Judging by the expression that flickered across Nick's eyes he knew that Monroe was quite right about that.

"And now you're coming out of a long-term relationship, so you think it might be fun to experiment a little, well I'm not your  _guinea pig_ , that's a different Wesen altogether, and frankly, experimenting is something you should have done in your teens, like everyone else!"

"Oh,  _I'm sorry_ ", Nick was raging now, his fists tightly clenched. "I think I had a slightly different focus in my teens, like, maybe, coping with both my parents being dead, you arsehole!"

"What,  _I_ am an arsehole?" Monroe felt himself woge, and he didn't hold back. "Let me just remind you how not so long ago you almost bit my  _head_  off because I didn't see something was wrong with you. Well  _now_  I see it!  _Something is wrong with you_. Now get out of my house!"

Monroe glared at him, pointing at the door, and for a moment all anger disappeared from the Grimm's eyes. He looked completely helpless now, shocked, and deeply hurt. And instantly, Monroe wanted to take it all back, just hold Nick in his arms, and tell Nick that he meant everything,  _everything_  to him. But it was too late. Nick's eyes lost that vulnerable softness and froze over.

"You know what. FUCK YOU!"

The detective stormed out and Monroe grabbed the other snow dome and hurled it after him. They might as well both go.

"YOU TOO!"

It burst into a thousand pieces as it hit the door, only a fraction of a second after it closed behind Nick.

"IDIOT!"

Monroe stared at the closed – and now dented – door, catching his breath. There was a horrible, acidic feeling spreading in his guts, letting him know that he had probably just made the biggest mistake of his life.

" _Idiot_."

The Blutbad wasn't even sure if he meant Nick – or himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well thaaaaat.. didn't go so well! Why Monroe, whyyyy?? Sigh. I promise, in the next chapter there's gonna be less talking and more.. ahem.. ACTION. ;D But it will take a while to write it because I have to do some real-life work for the rest of the month (meh). Please, pleeeeeaaaasseee review :D
> 
> EDIT: Ok, I've got a question for y'all: Even though Nick is a Grimm, he is still a human, right? Right? Please let me know :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Weeellll.. this turned out more BDSM-y than expected ;) 
> 
> So this is the chapter we have all been waiting for.. or, I don’t know, maybe you’re not as perverted as me and just wanted to read more bitchy dialogues ;P.
> 
> Please take into account the warnings I added at the beginning of the story and in the tags; this is all pretty explicit and violent and not overly consensual. 
> 
> If those aren't a problem – please enjoy :)!

_You spill, you grip, you squeeze_

_something delicious_

_You peel, you strip, you bleed_

_something delicious_

_delicious, something delicious_

_(Catherine Wheel)_

Monroe arrived at the spice shop as quickly as he could. Rosalee had sounded genuinely worried, something about a friend disappearing. She didn’t want to give any details on the phone, but Monroe didn’t _need_ any details in order to reassure her that he would be there right away. He was glad he could do something for Rosalee as he felt a little guilty for letting her down whenever she wanted to meet for a coffee in the last couple of weeks. Monroe’s mood had been appalling ever since he fell out with his best friend and he didn’t want to see her. She just reminded him of Nick, and that was not a good thing.

There had been a few particularly dark hours when Monroe seriously questioned his life choices as far as the whole reformed Blutbad thing was concerned. Wouldn’t he be better off being around his own kind rather than goddamn complicated humans? True, all the violence and bloodshed wasn’t really his cup of tea, even if he did miss hunting per se. But, at least, other areas of his life would be so much simpler. Two Blutbaden knew straight away if they were attracted to each other, and also whether they were compatible enough to pursue that initial attraction any further. It was just a matter of pheromones, and that was that! There was no need to play games and mess around. It was also rare for something like unrequited love to develop. Whereas inter-species mating rituals were so much more complicated, and when it came to humans.. well, every Blutbad knew that nothing good could ever come from falling in love with a human. Every Blutbad - apart from him, apparently.

Monroe must have picked up the phone a dozen times in order to call Nick and apologise for being such a complete idiot who always messed up these things. To say that _of course_ he would be whatever Nick needed him to be. But he never went past selecting the contact on his phone. This was too crazy. Too broken to fix. And it wasn’t _enough_. Monroe didn’t want _something,_  he wanted _everything_ , and that was impossible.

In the end, he deleted the detective’s number. Being angry with Nick just seemed easier to handle. To hate a Grimm felt natural, and after much consideration Monroe came to the conclusion that his parents were right and he had been nothing but _conceited_ to think that he was so very different from all the other Blutbaden. It was time to give up on those childish dreams that everyone could just get along and deserved the benefit of the doubt. A Grimm was a Grimm! True, Nick was not quite as bad as some of his ancestors, but still, he obviously did not value friendship or have a single shred of respect for Wesen. It was abundantly clear from the way the detective had treated him. After all he’d done for Nick, all those times he got beaten up, electrocuted and almost killed because of him, Monroe was pretty sure he did not deserve to be treated like the Grimm’s plaything, as if he had no feelings at all and did not mind being seduced, then pushed away and shouted at, and then, suddenly, expected to.. well, Monroe wasn’t even sure _what_ it was that Nick had wanted from him exactly. And it seemed that Nick didn’t really know either– which, of course, was typical! He liked to act first, then make up a plan as he went along, which worked surprisingly well for the detective, but was the exact opposite of what Monroe felt comfortable with. When Nick said he’d been ‘doing a lot of thinking’ about him it probably just meant that some vague idea had crossed his mind when he was standing in the shower..

Hm..

Shower..

The involuntary image of steaming hot water pouring down the detective’s toned, naked body momentarily distracted Monroe just as he was about to enter the shop. Why couldn’t he just _forget_ what Nick looked like naked! And then, suddenly, the visuals were reinforced by a heart-achingly familiar smell, and a second later a familiar voice.

“What are _you_ doing here?”

The Blutbad startled and cursed under his breath. Of course, it was not completely unexpected to run into the Grimm at this particular location, but it was still a shock. Monroe had the distinct impression that his uncalled-for thoughts were being projected straight onto the back of his head. He managed to pull himself together and turn around with a fitting response on his lips, something to the effect that it was a free country, which, hopefully, Nick was aware of, given that he worked in law enforcement, and that, surely, since Monroe was Wesen he had more reason to be here than the Grimm. But then he saw the detective, for the first time in a couple of weeks, and soaked him up with all of his being, like a thirsty sponge. Nick looked noticeably tired and not as cleanly shaved as usual, but somehow that slightly worn look made his eyes appear even brighter. Monroe forgot what he wanted to say, and then it was too late.

“Whatever.”

Nick walked past him and went inside, wrapping him into his scent like into a veil of candy floss.

Monroe stood outside for another moment, rubbing the back of his neck and wondering whether he should just go home. He couldn’t stand the thought of another fight with Nick, and, obviously, his anger at the detective was entirely mutual. And worst of all was that, somehow, seeing him made it so much harder to hate him. But he couldn’t let Rosalee down, not _again_. The Blutbad sighed, succumbing to the sugary strands pulling him inside, and opened the door.

“Hi Monroe”, Rosalee gave him a little smile, despite the concern in her eyes. “Thanks for coming.”

Monroe nodded, throwing her a reproachful glance. Judging by the way Nick stood by the side of the counter, also looking at the Fuchsbau, it was clear that he wasn’t here by accident and that Rosalee had probably called them both for exactly the same reason. And all despite Monroe telling her in no uncertain terms that him and Nick weren’t friends any longer and that it would be best for everyone if they stayed as far away from each other as physically possible in a not too large city like Portland. Monroe even had to tell her _twice_ , since she didn’t seem to believe him at first – which, of course, was understandable, considering how close and on the same wavelength him and the Grimm had always been. But now he was quite annoyed at Rosalee. Why did she have to call Nick? Wasn’t _his_ help good enough?

“So, now you’re both here”, the Fuchsbau confirmed Monroe’s suspicions, “I can tell you what I know, and hopefully you can -“

“Wait a second, Rosalee”, Nick interrupted, “you want me to go look for your friend – with _him_?”

He pointed at Monroe, then turned away, as if the Blutbad was some kind of leper.

“I’m not going _anywhere_ with him.”

“Undankbares Schwein”, Monroe muttered bitterly, crossing his arms and also turning away – to the other side.

“What did you just call me?!”

“Guys. _Guys_!” Rosalee was quick to intervene. “Come on now. I really need both your help.”

Her gaze flicked between Nick and Monroe.

“Please?”

She gave them both a sweet smile, making Monroe acutely aware – and embarrassed – that they were behaving like schoolchildren in front of Rosalee.

“Well, if it’s a case of kidnapping, why don’t we just deal with it at the police station?” the Grimm suggested, sounding less huffy. He was probably embarrassed too. “Why do we need _him_.”

It hurt like a thin but hot needle piercing through Monroe’s chest that Nick wouldn’t even say his name out loud. But then again, he didn’t _want_ him to say it. Things were already bad enough as they were. In the course of all those days – and nights – since their last encounter, Monroe had managed to convince himself that he had done the right thing and there was no point to even be _friends_ with Nick, let alone anything else. It was not too difficult an argument to build. Even ignoring Nick’s ancestry, they were polar opposites in almost every possible way..

And now just one look at the Grimm was enough to make that rampart come down brick by brick, and it made Monroe seriously question his sanity.

“Well..”, Rosalee lowered her voice a little, “Suzanne is a Fuchsbau too, and she.. grows things. Nothing illegal, of course, but plants that are valuable to Wesen. I sell some of her produce in my shop, actually.” She gave Nick a trusting look. “I think this might be the reason for the kidnapping, and it would be difficult to explain to your colleagues, so I thought that maybe we should investigate ourselves first?”

“Then why do we need _him_?”, Monroe chipped in, pointing back at Nick to distract from all the doubts and what-ifs that were suddenly flooding his system. Also, he didn’t want to get behind in the pointing department. “ _He_ wouldn’t be able to smell a Fuchsbau even if it smacked him over the head with a Gallenblase .. not that a Fuchsbau would ever do that, of course”, he was quick to add after receiving a sharp glance from Rosalee. “But you know what I’m saying. I can look for her on my own.”

“Look, I’m pretty sure that whoever took her is Wesen”, Rosalee explained, “so Nick’s skills would come in handy. _And_ he’s got the gun.”

“Right.”

What Rosalee was saying made perfect sense, and still, Monroe’s brain was working hard to find some kind of loophole that would allow him to get out of this situation and not have to spend any amount of time with Nick. He threw a glimpse at the detective, who seemed to be occupied with exactly the same type of thoughts. Well, at least in _some_ respects they were still on the same wavelength.

And then Monroe realised something else, something that made the glimpse turn into an astonished stare. He was pretty sure that Nick was wearing the shirt he had bought for him, the one he would have expected the Grimm to throw away if not burn at the earliest opportunity. But before he had a chance to consider the implications of it Nick glanced back at him, and he must have read something in Monroe’s eyes. It was not unusual, they often understood each other without words. The Grimm quickly undid the hoodie that was tied around his waist and pulled it on, despite the fact that it was a sunny day, and.. was it possible that he blushed a little? Monroe pointedly looked away, ignoring the gush of warmth and guilt, the pangs of conscience he had been pushing far, far away. Guilt that, when they last met, he had put his own insecurities first and turned Nick away when the detective was at his most vulnerable in front of him.

In the meantime, Rosalee had pulled a map from under the counter.

“Here, have a look at this.”

They both inched towards Rosalee and the map whilst, at the same time, trying to stay as far away from each other as possible, which meant that both their necks were looking unnaturally long all of a sudden.

“Suzanne’s house is here, right in the forest, about three miles north of the road”, Rosalee pointed. “Makes it easier to grow things, I guess. She was supposed to deliver something last weekend, but she never came, and I couldn’t reach her. She did tell me that she was scared someone might have found out about her little farm, so.. maybe if you go to the house you’ll find some clues.” She looked up at both of them. “But be careful.”

“You know”, Nick pulled the map towards him to get a closer look, “she might just be on holiday or something. I mean, there is no real evidence..”

“Maybe you’re right”, Rosalee mused, “I’m probably just worrying over nothing. I should go myself and check it o- “

“No, no, Rosalee”, Monroe stopped her, “you really shouldn’t go if you think it might be dangerous. We’ll go.”

“Yes, of course, don’t worry”, Nick was eager to agree, “we’ll look into it.”

“Oh, thank you!”, Rosalee sighed in relief, “I’m so grateful, to both of you.”

Monroe thought that her smile seemed a little bit too bright, considering that they were talking about a possible kidnapping here. But she was probably just putting on a brave face.

“Come on”, Nick picked up the map and shot Monroe an irritated glare. “Let’s get this over with.”

They stepped outside and the detective handed him the map.

“I’ll drive.”

Monroe took it and said nothing. It was probably best not to talk. Somehow, whenever he said something to the Grimm recently it just came out wrong.

They got into Nick’s car and Monroe felt grateful that, for a while, he could occupy himself with the task of adjusting the seat. It looked like it was still set to Juliette’s height, which made the clockmaker wonder whether her and Nick were back together after all. Well, he certainly didn’t mind if the Grimm was happy at last, as long as Nick left him the hell alone with it.

And as Monroe was thinking that his gaze inadvertently drifted over to the detective’s hand on the gear stick, watching his fingers as they gripped the knob and moved it back and forth, and what he felt was the exact opposite of what he thought. He let his gaze slide along Nick’s arm and up to his face. The detective was staring at the road in front of him, even though it was straight as an arrow, and completely empty. Monroe could almost _feel_ the tension in Nick’s jaw. He had been a fool to think that staying away from the young man would help dampen his feelings. Quite the opposite was the case: he was like someone trapped in a desert, with a jug of fresh, cool water hovering right in front of his face. Monroe wanted the Grimm more than ever, and he hated, _hated_ wanting something he could never have, and knowing it was his fault entirely.

The Blutbad turned away, rolled down the window and held his nose into the wind, trying to escape being stuck in this confined space with Nick. Smelling him was like smelling roasted coconut and being instantly reminded of the cake his great-aunt Gertrude used to make, which always made him feel sad and nostalgic because she died a long time ago and he would never get to taste that gorgeous cake again.

Or maybe it wasn’t _exactly_ like that, since he never wished to _fuck_ great-aunt Gertrude’s coconut cake.

But, at least, Nick seemed to agree that they had nothing to say to each other, and so they drove on in silence.

They parked on the side of the only driveable road that led through the forest, as close as they could get to their destination. But looking at the map they still had at least a half hour's walk ahead of them - if they set a quick pace. Which they did, and at first Monroe was glad as he could not wait to get away. He had hoped that being out in the open would distract him from Nick, but, astonishingly, all those rich smells of loose earth, sun-soaked moss and warm rabbit fur were like carefully selected accompaniments served for the sole purpose of bringing out the flavour of the beautiful main dish.

The situation was becoming more and more unbearable with every step they took, which, of course, was unsurprising, considering that they were walking up a slope and Nick was wearing too many layers for the weather. Soon, Monroe felt the whole forest turn into a single living, pulsing, sweltering entity, reverberating with Nick’s scent, engulfing him, soaking into his skin and kicking his temperature up a notch, which was never a good sign. It always rose by a degree or two when his human form was beginning to pinch him.

Another minute of walking in silence and Monroe was clenching his jaw, nails digging into his palms as he was trying – and failing – to ignore the familiar itch in his fingertips, telling him they were ready to become claws. He had almost forgotten what it felt like to want someone so badly, not with his clockmaker persona, but with his Blutbad nature, how deeply instinctual it was, how powerful, how much pain it caused to resist it. It made Monroe furious, with Nick, for putting him on a leash, for teasing him with his mere existence and awakening this kind of yearning inside him that turned him into someone, some _thing_ he fought so very hard not to be, every single day of his new life. But mostly he was mad at _himself_  for letting things come this far, for being so indecisive, so cautious, such a hopeless romantic at heart. So _what_ if Nick had been nothing but confused the last time they met? What did it matter if Nick knew what he was doing or not? Monroe should have swallowed his pride and _taken_ what he could get, and then he wouldn’t be suffering so badly right now, wishing he could sell all of his clocks just to be able to touch Nick once again, just _once_.. well, perhaps not the one above the fireplace, but..

He stopped in his tracks and leaned against a nearby alder tree with one hand. He was not an animal. He could handle this. Or so he kept telling himself.

“What?” Nick spoke for the first time in a long while and his voice was impatient, but not as hostile as it had felt back at the shop. “Can you smell anything?”

The detective stopped at his side and Monroe saw him out of the corner of his eyes before he closed them. How could he ever explain to Nick that all he could _breathe_ was him?

“Let’s.. slow down”, the Blutbad suggested, deliberately calmly, even though blood was seething and foaming in his veins, scalding him from the inside.

“Why?”

“ _You_ ”, Monroe muttered, defeated, “I can smell _you_. You’re sweating.”

“What?!”

The Blutbad shook his head. Of course, to a human that was bound to sound like an insult, though it wasn’t necessarily how he meant it. But what did it matter? He started walking again, with Nick at his heels.

“You don’t have to be such a _jerk_ , you know!”

The Grimm sounded taken aback rather than actually angry, and that made things even worse.

“I’m not a jerk, Nick!” the Blutbad exploded, stomping some perfectly innocent moss with his feet as he picked up pace, despite his earlier suggestion. “Just because I’m not _desperate_ enough to be your rebound affair, that doesn’t make me a jerk!”

“ _Rebound_?! You didn’t even let me _explain_ what - “

“I should have _killed_ you that night you came snooping around my yard”, Monroe blurted out in frustration, sexual and otherwise, not even realising what he was saying. “I should have _known_ that nothing good can come from a - “

He halted when he realised that the detective wasn’t walking alongside him any longer and turned around, his gut churning in dismay at the words that came out of his own mouth.

Nick was standing a few feet away, facing him, fists tightly clenched, eyes burning in that unnerving way that only a Grimm’s eyes could.   

“If you want me dead so badly”, he pressed out, as if spitting the words into Monroe’s face, “let’s settle it right here and now!”

“Really, Nick?” Monroe scoffed, too scared to allow even a second of silence that would force him to admit how grotesque this situation had become, how fast it was spinning out of control in a direction that none of them could possibly have intended. “Me against your gun? I wonder how that’s gonna go!”

Nick did not let him out of his sight even for a second as he unsnapped the holster on his hip and slowly pulled out the weapon.

“I don’t need a gun to take you on.”

He flung it underneath a nearby bush and Monroe followed it with his eyes, stunned.

“Well, maybe in the beginning that would have worked”, the Blutbad opined, on autopilot, “before I knew how you _move_ , but now you really don’t have a chance in h-“

Monroe’s elaborations were interrupted by a sharp pain as, without any further warnings, Nick had covered the short distance between them and punched him squarely in the jaw. And, despite everything, it took Monroe by surprise.

He stumbled backwards, holding his cheek and spitting blood.

“Oh yeah?”

Obviously, Nick had no intention of holding back.

“Think again. _Blutbad_.”

Monroe looked up, slowly wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, though the way Nick addressed him just now hurt far worse than the physical pain, making his insides clench and burn. Maybe the detective was right, maybe this _was_ the only way to settle it. Otherwise they would just keep running into each other in Portland, keeping alive all those memories of wrong turnings and missed opportunities. And Monroe was certainly not prepared to move away and give up his territory, not to another Blutbad, and _most definitely_ not to a Grimm!

He gave a low growl and, for the first time in a while, woged purposefully, not simply because he lost control.. what a liberating feeling that was!

And then everything became a blur, partly because things were indeed happening very quickly, and partly because, in his woged state, Monroe’s brain was struggling to handle all the information that his heightened senses were offering.

But he knew it only took seconds to hurl Nick to the ground, clothes ripping with all the impact of a thunderclap, and a moment later they were rolling in the long, fragrant grass, tearing into each other, each trying to gain and keep the upper hand, but finding that they were quite evenly matched. From a purely physical point of view Monroe was certainly stronger, but Nick made up for it by being a well-trained cop, _and_ a reasonably trained Wesen slayer. All the times they had spent in the woods together, trying out the weapons from the trailer, play-fighting, it was all paying off now.

And not in Monroe’s favour. Obviously, Nick had been paying attention. The Blutbad’s claws burrowed into thick dirt where they should have slashed the Grimm’s exposed neck, and then he got the wind knocked out of him as, somehow, the detective managed to bring up a knee and drive it into his stomach. He gave a silent gasp, the impact rippling through his body and wrapping him in darkness, forcing him to back off just far enough for Nick to be able to punch him in the face, so hard it filled the blackness with dancing stars.

But the pain itself hardly registered, barely managed to gain the attention of his nervous system that was already overloaded with the hot, crimson smell ringing in the air, intensifying by the second, almost palpable, the groans coming from both of them, their bodies entangled and soaked in sweat. Monroe was high as a kite. Being so close to Nick was certainly to die for. But not so fast!

He succeeded to recover before the Grimm could wind up for another blow and hit him back, punching his head to the ground, and now it was Nick gasping and coughing up a mouthful of blood.

Monroe could not tell how long they were grappling for, whether minutes, or hours, as he had completely lost his sense of time, which, given his profession, was a little ironic. He was not able to process anything else apart from all those wonderfully physical things that Nick was doing to him, and that he was doing back to Nick. But, at some point, the Blutbad started to feel fatigue setting in – prolonged fights were hardly part of his routine these days – and a part of his brain that, to his surprise, had remained active decided he’d had enough.

He scrambled to his feet, in two attempts, as the detective kicked at his legs and knocked him over the first time, then pulled Nick up by his hair, eliciting a pained grunt, and slammed his back into a nearby tree, once, twice, and again, until the young man was too dazed to retaliate. He seemed tired too, which was comforting, and did not resist as Monroe’s hand clamped around his throat, claws digging into sensitive skin, only staring at the Blutbad out of two deep, dark orbs, sucking in his soul with those deadly black holes. Monroe could never quite get used to Nick’s Grimm eyes, to the way they threw all the sins of his animal form back at him, every Wesen’s worst nightmare, and right now it was too much to take. He shook his head, reverting back to his human shape and watching Nick’s eyes turn blue-green once again, Monroe’s favourite colour in the whole wide world – apart from red, of course.

He found they were still tugging at his soul, though in a completely different way, and the one small movement he would have needed to make in order to rip out Nick’s windpipe was the last thing he wanted right now. Yet the adrenaline was still boiling over in his body, causing it to shake as he was using it to hold the detective against the tree stem. He could not stop himself from falling into Nick’s eyes, feeling the young man’s frazzled breath on his own lips, both of them panting heavily, their faces only inches away from each other.

And then that last sober, sensible part of his brain decided to shut down and he was all overstrung nerves and firing synapses. Monroe closed his eyes, as well as the last of the distance between them.

Instantly, Nick was fighting him once again, making incoherent but clearly furious sounds against his mouth and pounding at the Blutbad’s shoulders until Monroe broke the kiss, let go of his throat and caught his hands instead, pressing them into the smooth, pliable bark above Nick’s head.

The Grimm glowered at him, catching his breath.

“Leave it!”

“I’m not a _dog_ , Nick!”

Monroe crushed his lips into the detective’s once again, prying open his fists and interlacing their fingers as he deepened the kiss, the metallic taste on the inside of Nick’s cheek making his own blood rush with dizzying speed. He had been recollecting the young man’s taste every single day, every hour since that faithful night, yet the beauty of the real thing still managed to take his breath away and fill the resulting vacuum with butterflies. Nick’s protests sounded less and less convincing every time that Monroe sucked on his lips, and then, suddenly, he was kissing back with such vehemence that the Blutbad lost his balance and toppled over with a startled noise, falling backwards into the soft undergrowth and pulling Nick down with him.

The detective’s teeth cut into Monroe’s chin as Nick landed on top of him with considerable momentum, but a second later the Grimm found his mouth and took away all pain, letting Monroe forget who or where he was, and what he was here to do, forget the soreness in his face where Nick had hit him only minutes ago. Everything he ever needed to know and remember was right here on the tip of Nick’s hot, determined tongue as it was rubbing against his own with unexpected fervour.

And then something else happened that was unexpected. Abruptly, Nick let go of him and sat up, straddling him, and Monroe was so bowled over it took him a little while to notice that the Grimm was holding a thick, heavy-looking stick to his throat, pointy enough to be used as a serious weapon.

“You.. underestimate me”, the detective panted, pushing the piece of wood deeper into his skin, “Monroe.”

The Blutbad gazed up at him, dumbstruck, too dazzled to process anything else apart from the sound of Nick finally remembering his name. Never before had he been so happy in a situation where someone was threatening him with death.

“You still wish.. you’d killed me?”

Monroe did not reply but gave a slight shake of his head, ignoring the fact that the movement meant he was just short of piercing himself with the stick. He’d never wished that in the first place. Well, maybe apart from that one time when Nick disturbed him at ridiculous o’clock in the middle of his pilates to shove a dead, smelly bear paw in his face.

“I win”, the detective bit out, breathlessly, “remember that.. for the future!”

There was a dark glow in the young man’s eyes, on his cheeks, only emphasised by several deep red cuts that now decorated his face, and the only thought in Monroe’s throbbing head was how stunning Nick looked. He felt no fear whatsoever, but not because he didn’t think that the Grimm could kill him. After everything that happened between them, that wouldn’t be too far-fetched.

“ _Say it_!”

Monroe simply had no emotional space left to fill.

“You win,” he whispered.

It was true, in more than one way. But even if it weren’t, the Blutbad would have happily confirmed that Nick was the emperor of China, if that meant they could go back to the kissing part.

It appeared that his silent plea had been heard since those clear blue-greens were already softening with the same regret that was burning a hole into Monroe’s stomach, regret about this pointless, stupid fight when both of them had clearly wanted the exact opposite. And now the detective was looking at him in almost the same warm and sincere way he had always looked at him, before things got so terribly complicated. Almost. Nick finally threw away his unnecessary stick and bowed down, tangling his fingers into Monroe’s curls before granting him his wish, and the Blutbad wrapped both arms around him, deeply grateful, holding him as close as he physically could.

He almost purred into him, completely out of character, but this was just too damn _fantastic_! So different from the very first time they kissed, and back then Monroe had honestly thought it could not get any better. But now those soft, warm lips were moving so much more eagerly and purposefully against his, exactly how Monroe had always imagined them whenever he fantasised about kissing Nick, which, if he was honest, had happened quite a few times over the course of the year. Their mouths understood each other just as perfectly as their minds had always done, and seemed incapable to let go of each other, aside from a short break when Monroe pulled what was left of Nick’s hoodie over his head. He immediately sank back into the kiss, with the desperate greed of someone who, after what had felt like a lifetime of famine, finally got his hands on his favourite dish.  

The Blutbad’s fingers slid over the thin cotton of the detective’s shirt, reveling in the fact that, technically, it belonged to him, and, right now, so did the young man. He stroked down Nick’s back, feeling his muscles flex underneath the soft fabric, a little surprised how something as pure and beautiful as making out with Nick in the woods could make him so painfully aroused. Though, in all fairness, he had been living a celibate lifestyle for quite a while now, partly because he did his best to stay away from other Blutbaden, and intercourse with Kehrseiten tended to be either incredibly dull – or likely to result in injuries for the human participant. But mostly because, ever since breaking up with Angelina, he just hadn’t fancied anyone else apart from Nick, and Monroe had never been a meaningless sex kind of guy, not even in those days when he embraced his animal nature..

The Blutbad was pretty sure that Nick knew how he felt, since when he first started to grow hard the young man instantly tensed and made a move to sit back up, but Monroe had already wound a hand into his hair, holding him to the kiss, the other arm wrapped tightly around his waist. No, this time the Grimm would not get away so easily! He rubbed himself up into the detective’s groin, humming at the pleasure that radiated through his body, only heightened by the muffled sounds that came from Nick. Well, was Nick _surprised_ to find that he was not, in fact, a girl? It was time Monroe got a little more control of this situation.

He lifted a knee and pushed it against Nick’s hip, forcefully rolling them both over and stretching out on top of the Grimm as he ran a hand down his chest, his stomach.. Nick jerked and gave an adorable little whimper as Monroe’s long, skilled clockmaker fingers wrapped around the growing bulge in his trousers. The Blutbad smiled, electrified, finally releasing Nick’s mouth and propping himself up just far enough to be able to look him in the face. He used his thumb to wipe a dribble of red-stained spit from the corner of the Grimm’s parted lips, watching those already huge eyes widen a little more with each confident stroke of his other hand.

Obviously, this was the point where it dawned on Nick that things were getting pretty serious. His expression began to shift from self-assured victor to deer in the headlights, and that defenseless look on his face, together with its battered condition, were inexorably pulling on the very strings of Monroe’s predatory wolf heart, slowly transforming his earlier gratitude and innocent infatuation into something much deeper and darker. And the searing hot rush of hormones left over from their fight was still coursing through his body, spurring him on. Enough with the puppy love already! Nick was the most magnificent piece of game he’d ever laid his claws on, and he was no longer prepared to give it up, not for the world! This could only go one way, he _had_ to have him, and the realisation made Monroe almost sick with excitement as he bowed down to kiss his prey once again.

“Uh.. Monroe..“

Unexpectedly, Nick pulled away, turning his head to the side.

“.. enough now .. we really .. should be looking for that -”

“No”, the Blutbad muttered, eliciting a startled pant as he buried his teeth into Nick’s throat, increasing the motion of his hand. Yet touching him through the coarse fabric seemed less and less satisfying.

“Hey! I said .. _enough_ ”, Nick’s objections suddenly grew a lot more vocal as Monroe occupied himself with the button on his jeans, tugging impatiently. “This is a .. public space!”

“ _Arrest_ me then”, Monroe suggested, huskily, kissing up the exposed side of Nick’s neck and barely managing to focus on the content of the young man’s fractured utterances. His mind was homing in on what happened _between_ the words, on the way Nick’s voice hitched, matching his own rushed, uneven breathing.

“But.. -"

“Really don’t care.”

He finally managed to unsnap the button and tore open the zip, ignoring Nick’s unsure hands on his shoulders, trying to shove him away. The world was already tinged in red, red as the pounding in his ears, like the drying blood he was hungrily licking off Nick’s cheekbone, effortlessly pushing aside his rebellious arms. He was glad his lupine self had the opportunity to roam free earlier on, which made it easier to suppress the worst of it now. This was too good to be done half-consciously; Monroe wanted to be in control as much as possible.

He moved back a little and got on his knees, resolved to sort out the issue with Nick’s jeans once and for all. Apparently, the detective was under the illusion it was an opportunity to get away, as he sat up on his elbows in one hasty move and was about to try and clamber to his feet when Monroe grabbed him by the backs of his loafers and pulled so hard it flipped Nick back to the ground, leaving the shoes in the Blutbad’s hands. Another vigorous pull and Monroe stripped his bottom half completely – staring at Nick’s impressive anatomy, then his face, surprised that, conveniently, the young man wasn’t wearing any underwear.

“.. didn’t have..”, Nick propped himself up once again, seemingly eager to explain,“.. any _clean_ ones!”

The clockmaker could not help but chuckle, even forgetting what they were doing here for a moment. He knew that Nick wasn’t coping very well being on his own, but, obviously, things were even worse than he expected.

That moment didn’t last too long.

Before Nick could take another chance at escaping the Blutbad climbed back on top of him, trapping him with his body weight and catching his lips in a bruising kiss. He could not hold back much longer. His head was swimming from the sensation of Nick’s hard, naked cock pressing into his body, from the Grimm’s mouth-watering scent, suddenly intensified, the taste of blood lingering on his tongue, from the contradiction in Nick’s attempts to fight him while kissing back at the same time. It made the tension in his own trousers grow unbearable and Monroe reached down to open them, fingers tingling with anticipation.

“Hey, what .. are you _doing_?!”

Suddenly, Nick’s voice was ringing with panic as he tore his mouth away and struggled against him with renewed urgency. Was it really just now that he realised what the Blutbad was going to do?

“What do you _think_?” Monroe growled, wrestling Nick’s hands to the ground as he forced a knee between the young man’s legs, spreading them apart. “You were right. I _want_ you.”

Nick must have been deluded to think he had won this!

A part of Monroe felt guilty that he was enjoying this so much, savouring Nick’s futile resistance, the way it resonated with the very core of his carnivorous, hunting nature, promising to make it so much sweeter when he would finally get to possess the Grimm. And that guilty part was growing smaller and smaller with each enticingly desperate noise that Nick was making:

“.. n-no .. don’t .. not like _this_..”

The Blutbad brought his face down until it was only inches away from Nick’s and those blue-green irises clouded over in response to the deep red glow in his own eyes.

“How would you .. _like_ it?”

Not that it made any difference what the Grimm had to say, but Monroe was curious to hear his suggestions, uttered in that beguilingly breathless manner. Besides, delaying the inevitable for as long as he physically could would made it all the more delicious.

“.. well .. maybe .. like last time ..”

The detective blushed thoroughly, or at least Monroe thought so; it was difficult to tell, considering that Nick’s face already had a scarlet hue to start with.

“I bet you’d like that”, the Blutbad grinned, darkly, eliciting a beautiful stifled moan as he rubbed his clothed thigh against Nick’s erection. “Forget it.”

There was no way he would settle for just pleasuring the Grimm, again. This time, he wanted it all. Though, in practical terms, having to keep overpowering Nick made it impossible for him to get rid of his own trousers. He needed to subdue him with something else but just his hands.

Monroe pressed his face into Nick’s damp, heated cheek, his lips brushing against the detective’s ear as he enunciated each word to maximum effect:

“I’m. gonna. fuck you. senseless.”

They were so close Monroe could _feel_ the young man suck in his breath and go completely rigid against him, giving him the opportunity to release Nick for a moment and pull down his corduroys and boxers, just as far as he needed to for his purposes.

“.. wait .. what ..”, Nick mumbled, shocked and obviously struggling to regain full control of his tongue, “.. it’s not gonna _work_!”

He managed to push himself up on his elbows once again and squirmed backwards a feet or two until Monroe caught him by his shoulders and forced them down, putting him flat on his back.

“Oh, it will work”, he assured the Grimm, lifting one of Nick’s naked legs and resting it on his hip.

Unsurprisingly, the detective did not appear reassured in the slightest, trying to pull away with a series of frantic jerks, but in vain. The Blutbad’s physical superiority was undeniable – but this was only half the story. The other half was that Nick’s protests felt decidedly half-hearted. Or, maybe, three-quarter-hearted. But having been recently given a very vivid demonstration of the Grimm’s strength and agility, Monroe had little doubt that Nick was not giving it his all right now, that the young man would be more than capable of stopping him, if he _really_ wanted to.

He stared into the detective’s big, bright eyes as he positioned himself, watching in fascination as they stretched in shock and anxiousness, and another emotion: desire, of course, that was already quite obvious from the way Nick’s body was reacting; but also something _else_ , much more profound, the kind of unveiled need Monroe had already seen there before. But now that the Grimm wasn’t drugged it became even more transparent. Deep down, the young man’s gaze was begging, _begging_ him to continue, to take what he wanted and be in control, of the situation, and of Nick, his body, all of it. Those pleading eyes were the most dazzling, ravishing thing Monroe had ever seen. It made him feel completely weightless, as if filled with nothing but warm, dark space and his flying heartbeat. He would have never expected this, and yet in a way it made a lot of sense. Nick had to be in charge every single moment of his waking life, be the brave and decisive cop, the guy with the gun that peoples’ lives depended on. And, of course, his duties multiplied once he became a Grimm and saw the world around him teem with dangers that he alone could understand and eliminate. So, maybe, in secret, he had been craving _this_ , a chance to hand over all responsibility, to relinquish control, completely, even if only for a few minutes. And maybe that was the missing piece of the puzzle, the true reason why Nick wanted to be more than friends, because, subconsciously, he knew he could not get _this_ anywhere else, not from Juliette, or anyone else that he did not have complete faith in. How did Monroe not realise this before? It was crystal clear.

And yet, seemingly, it was something that Nick either wasn’t aware of, or was in no way willing to admit, since he continued to put up a fight, fruitlessly kicking and swinging at Monroe, though more on principle than with any actual drive behind it. Or, perhaps, he was just inviting the Blutbad to hold him down more thoroughly, and Monroe happily complied, pinning both of the young man’s wrists with just one big, strong hand.

“.. wait .. wait ..”, Nick muttered, hectically, his voice dripping with fear and lust as he gaped at the Blutbad, immobilised, “.. you can’t .. we don’t even .. have _lube_!”

His fingers were clawing at the back of Monroe’s pinning hand in exasperation and the Blutbad almost regretted he was already as turned on as he could possibly get and unable to fully appreciate all these wonderful little details. Still, he enjoyed the fact that, possibly without even realising, Nick’s was now focusing his objections on the practical details of what they were doing here, rather than on the actual _what_.

And that particular objection was probably the most reasonable one he’d heard so far. Monroe spit into his free hand and reached between them, rubbing the area that needed lubricating, the breathless excitement of it making his head spin. Nick winced under his touch, trying to shift away, but there was nowhere to go.

“You’re a Grimm”, Monroe reminded him, helpfully, as he lifted one of the detective’s legs once again, holding it firmly in place and using it to get the angle right. “You can take the pain.”

For a split second he thought it would be better to try a finger first, but he just didn’t have that kind of patience right now. If he did not have Nick right here, this very moment – he would go crazy.

The detective did not respond but made a dismayed little noise and clenched his eyes shut, trembling all over as Monroe nudged against him.

“Take it”, the Blutbad whispered, pushing, but Nick was all tensed up.

It took absolutely all of Monroe’s scattered shreds of self-control not to thrust in anyway and seriously hurt the young man. He buried his fingernails into Nick’s bare thigh, fighting to suppress his own trembles as his inner wolf was throwing himself about, threatening to take over his frame and devour the Grimm without mercy. Monroe leaned down, pressing his mouth into his prey, salivating at the smell of fright and arousal on Nick’s skin.

“Just relax”, he commanded, surprised at the raw, dominant note in his own voice. He did not get to show that hidden side of his personality too often these days.

It seemed to create the desired effect since the Grimm mumbled something incoherent, but obeyed, easing up a little. He allowed Monroe to press the first inch into him, flinching and exhaling sharply in response, clenching his eyes even tighter as his face contorted in pain. And the Blutbad mirrored Nick’s gasp, thrilled beyond even his boldest expectations, every cell in his body instantly set alight by the sudden heat engulfing his sensitive tip, and even more so by the detective’s reactions.

“.. ow ..”, Nick whimpered, hands weakly pressing up into Monroe’s palm, “ .. stop it ..”

Yet despite his plea Nick did not seem to be fighting him any longer, and the Blutbad was endlessly delighted to see the young man succumb to his fate. It deserved a reward. Monroe made a soothing sound as he released Nick’s wrists and slipped a hand between them to take the Grimm’s mind off the discomfort when he entered him a little further.

Monroe made an inhuman – or, in his case, actually a _particularly human_ – effort not to rush it and give Nick some time to adjust, despite the acute need in his own body almost driving him insane. He did not want to cause his friend _too_ much pain, just _a little_ , enough to take sweet revenge for some of the things he had not quite forgotten yet, things he would never be mentioning to Nick. Like the way the detective had deliberately hurt his feelings after their first night together, even though, deep down, he must have already known he had wanted everything that happened..

Nick gave a grateful sob when the Blutbad’s fingers wrapped around his still hardened cock. Obviously, the pain didn’t bother him all that much. And then, with his next thrust, Monroe must have hit a good spot since Nick’s eyes flew wide open as he threw back his head with a surprised, strangled moan. If Monroe had to choose just one sound to listen to for the rest of his life, this would be it. Well, either this or Beethoven’s Ninth. Now was not the time for difficult decisions.

“Want me .. to stop, Nick?”, he teased, almost gleefully, feeling wonderfully light-headed. “I can stop.”

That was certainly a lie, and Nick gave no reply, just arched against him with an even more striking sound of pleasure when Monroe withdrew and rocked into that exact spot once again.

“I’m kind of .. leaning towards .. that being .. a ‘no’ ..”

Every couple of words the Blutbad slid a little deeper into him, nibbling on Nick’s chin that was turned up towards him, then moving up to pull the detective’s trembling lower lip into his mouth. And with that last ‘no’ he finally took him completely, eliciting a helpless cry that turned his blood into liquid fire.

For a moment Monroe closed his eyes and held still, hopelessly overwhelmed, barely managing to even _breathe_ through the mad, erratic pulse that consumed him. But he wanted, he _needed_ to look at the Grimm.

He reached up and caught Nick’s chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting the Grimm’s face down until he could see the detective’s eyes, the trusting expression he found there almost chocking him. To melt into the Grimm’s gaze while moving _inside_ him was so intense, the intimacy of it so surreal it made him delirious, sending his stomach into a frenzy of flutters as Nick clasped his shoulders, holding on for dear life as Monroe was fucking him with slow, deliberate strokes.

He really did his best to restrain himself as much as his lit-up, adrenaline-fueled body would allow, not only to go easy on Nick, but also because he could already tell his stamina wasn’t what it used to be. It’s just been too long, and Nick was simply _amazing_ , tasted _amazing_ as Monroe cupped his cheek, kissing his bruised face, his cut, swollen lips, feeling all the impact of his own thrusts snap through the young man’s frame, Nick’s tongue helplessly jerking against his as the Grimm moaned into his mouth.

Monroe could tell Nick wasn’t far off himself. Gradually, his noises were becoming more abrupt and _focused_ , and the Blutbad could feel the young man tense and twitch into his caressing hand, his hips starting to buck up to meet him. He felt it, and chose to ignore it, since the mere thought of making Nick come like this almost pushed him over the edge, both sexually and as far as his humanity was concerned.

But as much as Monroe tried to control himself, his senses were making it impossible, playing havoc with his body and threatening to tear him into shreds if he did not concede to his nature, at least _a little_. The Blutbad gave a deep, guttural snarl as he buried his mouth into Nick neck, drunk on the smell of his sweat, feeling the fangs emerge – and sink into the Grimm.

This time, he did not hold back and the detective yelped, digging his nails into the Blutbad’s shoulders.

“What the .. FUCK?!”

Monroe growled in response, not lifting his face, the sweet and delicately spicy taste of blood momentarily appeasing the wolf and convincing him not to come out in full.

“This is how .. Blutbaden mate!”

He drove harder into his prey, as if to give more weight to his words, caring less and less whether he was hurting the Grimm as his animal instincts were coming through.   

“.. mate .. huh ..”, Nick’s voice was trailing off beautifully in-between hoarse pants as the young man was shaking in Monroe’s arms, “.. and you .. complained .. _I_.. wasn’t being .. romantic ..”

Despite the increasingly manic pace there was an undeniably defiant note in the detective’s voice. Obviously, the Blutbad was not quite living up to his earlier threat – or promise – to burn out his senses; something needed to be done about that.

Monroe stopped mid-action and pulled out, relishing the utterly confused, disappointed look in his prey’s eyes.

“Wha- “

Without as much as a word the Blutbad hooked a hand around Nick’s waist, flipped him over on his stomach and entered him again, this time in just one raw, forceful thrust, burying himself to the hilt.

The Grimm gave a muffled scream, digging his teeth into the ground and spitting out a mouthful of grass as Monroe jerked his head up by his hair.

“That’s.. how I _like_ it”, he hissed in the detective’s ear, licking his salty face as he was pounding him relentlessly, only pausing for a fraction of a second to slip a hand underneath Nick, forcing the detective to rub into his palm with each wild, powerful stroke. “You’re _mine_!”

He curled his shoulders, slamming his feet into the ground to push in even deeper.

“ _Mine_!”

The Blutbad pressed his forehead into Nick’s wet, arching shoulders, groaning as he pushed back the impossible bliss that was already threatening to drown him, the claws that were almost piercing through his fingertips. Not yet .. not yet .. soon ..

“.. yes ..”, Nick sobbed, squirming and trembling underneath him, and Monroe instinctively wrapped his free hand around his mouth, as some part of him must have been aware that they were in a forest, in bright daylight, and Nick was being very, _very_ loud. Which is why he _felt_ rather than _heard_ the detective come, felt his body violently shudder up against him, Nick’s teeth painfully clamping down on Monroe’s fingers between his lips, Monroe’s other hand being filled with hot, viscous liquid.

And then the Blutbad let it go, pulling both hands away from the Grimm just in time as they turned into long, sharp claws. Monroe woged, and instantly his senses were propelled sky-high with the sensation of Nick’s heat squeezing around him, the smell of his cum mixing with damp earth, the delicious, intoxicating taste of his sweat.. He scrunched up his eyes and exploded into a million pieces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes:  
> 1) Back in the shop, Monroe calls Nick an "ungrateful pig" (in German, of course) - just to save you Google translating ;).  
> 2) I'm not 100% sure if Nick is considered human. He's human, right? I'm just gonna assume he is.  
> 3) I have just discovered the concept of knotting, and now I kind of regret I didn't know about it earlier ;). Oh well. Maybe next fic.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I apologise for this very short chapter, but this is actually the point where my last chapter would have ended, had I not been so impatient ;). This is very much Angst-cum-Fluff, but mostly angst, just because I have a thing for pushing my favourite characters to the edge of a panic attack :).

There came a point where Monroe’s lungs started to accept the air he was desperately trying to offer them, and then he could finally pull his body back together, piece by blissful piece, regaining enough self-awareness to feel himself lying on his back with something painfully buried into his spine, probably a pointy root or a hard little stone. It did not bother him at all. He wished to lie here until the end of time, comfortably wrapped into this wonderful, all-encompassing heat, into the darkness created by his eyelids, tinged with red, listening to nothing but bird songs and the pants of the Grimm stretched out next to him.

Yet his heartbeat was slowing down at the same rate as his thoughts were speeding up, buzzing inside his head like a swarm of poisonous wasps, and all of a sudden he changed his mind and didn’t want to be here at all, whether lying, standing, or in any other imaginable position. All of a sudden, he was praying to be somewhere else, _anywhere_ else, preferably on the other side of the planet, or maybe the North Pole, serving as dinner for a bunch of polar bears, which seemed far more attractive than having to deal with the aftermath of what they just did. Of what _he_ did to his friend.

But Monroe wasn’t one to run away with his tail between his legs. He would accept responsibility for his actions, which, if he was honest, he couldn’t blame entirely on being knocked out by the irrational, reckless wolf in him. No, he knew exactly what he was doing almost every step of the way. He had wanted it just the way it happened, and hell, did he enjoy it! Now he had to face up to the consequences.

He pushed himself up on one arm, very, very carefully, and peeked over at Nick. The young man lay sprawled out in the grass, still on his front, face hidden in the crook of his elbow and his other hand clawed into the ground. The Grimm’s shoulders were rising and falling with his uneven breathing, but apart from that he was motionless.

Monroe despised himself for the fact that, even now, his gaze inadvertently slid over to the beautiful curve of the detective’s naked backside; he only managed to catch a quick glimpse of it earlier on. And now he could not ignore the red-stained wetness on the insides of his friend’s slightly parted thighs.

“ _Nick_ ”, he tried, but all that his voice would produce was an unintelligible rasping sound.

Monroe cleared his throat. He did not even realise he had been producing noises loud enough to make himself hoarse.

“Nick? You okay?”

He stretched out a hand to tap on the young man’s shoulder, but found that he was too scared, too _shy_ to touch him, which, of course, was absurd, considering that he had been touching him most intimately, inside and out, only minutes ago.

The detective gave no response, neither verbally nor with his body. He just lay there by his side, almost completely still, which made the shaking of Monroe’s outstretched hand even more conspicuous. He felt weak and shivery, as if fighting off the onset of a flu, his muscles sore and overstretched from the unexpected exertion of the fight, as well as the astonishing, mind-boggling things that happened afterwards. And the Blutbad’s head hurt even worse than his body, threatening to be torn apart by all those alarmed, increasingly distressing thoughts darting off in all directions:

What if he had _seriously_ hurt the one person that meant the world to him? Nick had never done _this_ before, and Monroe had not been exactly _gentle_. Was the Grimm unconscious? Did he need a doctor? The hospital? What if he never recovered from this? How could Monroe ever live with himself? How could he even _exist_?

“Hey, man”, he finally dared to place a hand on Nick’s shoulder and give it a cautious squeeze, “come on.”

The clockmaker could not stop the panic from creeping into his voice, feeling less and less able to handle the detective’s unresponsiveness. He had used up all of the adrenaline in his system, and now he was crashing, hard, feeling sick to the core as his blood sugar plunged to dangerous levels.

“Please talk to me,” he pleaded – and yet he had no idea what he expected Nick to say. Or what to say himself. He could not even grasp the situation with his thoughts, let alone the clumsy words that usually came out of his mouth. Of course, his first impulse was to tell Nick he was sorry, but how could he ever apologise – for _this_? It would sound pathetic, an insult in every possible way! Nothing could even come close to justifying what he did, and with every second that passed Monroe was more and more convinced that Nick had not actually wanted this at all. That he had _forced_ him. Oh God! OH GOD! What had he _done_?

But just as Monroe was ready to scream in anguish Nick finally stirred, his muscles tensing under the clockmaker’s hand, and Monroe quickly retracted it, as if burning himself on the cool cotton fabric, not wanting to force his touch on the young man any longer.

Slowly, Nick propped himself up on his arms, and Monroe could not help but notice how he swayed ever so slightly from the effort it took him to push himself into a sitting position. The clockmaker froze, paralysed by that heart-numbing, gut-wrenching guilt, like a rabbit in front of a snake, nerves strained to the breaking point as he waited for the Grimm to look at him with eyes full of hatred and disgust. He was also acutely aware that the detective’s gun was lying under a bush only a few feet away, though the thought of Nick shooting him was probably the least of his concerns. Monroe was at peace with the concept of dying one day, and if the last thing he saw was his friend’s face, maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad way to go.

Yet when Nick finally lifted his wet, flushed, dirty face and gazed up at him.. those captivating blue-green eyes were glowing with a whole host of emotions, but hatred and disgust weren’t two of them. There was exhaustion, of course, and a good portion of shock and bewilderment, but there were also wonder and a dawning realisation. And deep satisfaction, something Monroe had never seen in Nick’s eyes before. He mostly met the Grimm in situations where he was either angry, or upset, or eager – to know something, go somewhere, find someone, save the world, somehow, as usual. Because these were the times when Nick needed his help. Monroe had rarely seen his eyes when they were _content_ , since that had always been Juliette’s territory.

And now it was his.

He helplessly stared at the Grimm, surprised and relieved beyond belief, overflowing with so many things he really, _really_ needed to say, but the natural confidence he had felt when Nick was screaming in his arms had already abandoned him, and even though he felt that the onus to speak was on him he could not get his dry mouth to utter a single word.

And Nick did not speak either, simply leaned over and hugged him.

He pressed his face into the Blutbad’s shoulder, almost like that time he came into his bedroom at night, and Monroe was just as amazed now as he had been then; only this time he knew exactly how to react. It didn’t even take a heartbeat to wrap his arms around the Grimm, cupping the back of his neck and drawing him as close as he possibly could. He nuzzled into Nick soft, damp hair, exhilarated and overwhelmed by the surge of warmth rushing through him, washing away all the panic, the guilt, the need to speak. Slowly, he felt his nerves calm, felt himself cautiously step away from the edge of insanity, the sick feeling in his stomach replaced by all the right kinds of flutters.

“Okay”, he whispered, threading fingers through the detective’s hair and rubbing gentle circles on his back. “Okay. Okay. Alright.”

He wasn’t even sure if he was comforting Nick – or himself. They both needed this kind of aftercare so very badly, needed to reassure themselves that, despite hurting each other with their words and their fists, despite the hard, ruthless sex, they were still Nick and Monroe, that they still held the same affection for each other, trusted each other, just like they always had. Somehow, they had forgotten, but now they remembered.

After a while Nick had stopped trembling, but Monroe continued to hold him close, taking deep breaths until he could feel their heartbeats synchronise. He closed his eyes, pressing his lips into the Grimm’s forehead, just below his hairline. This was even more intimate, more intense than making love. It was better than anything he had ever felt before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that I've written TWO versions of chapter 8, and they both follow on from this chapter 7. At some point, I will get rid of one of them, but for the time being I'm not sure which way to go.
> 
> 8.1 is more angsty and conflicted, whereas 8.2 is quite silly and light-hearted. 8.2 also ends the story whereas 8.1 does not. It's up to you which one you read, or you can read both and tell me which one you like better :).


	8. Chapter 8 - Version 1 (8.1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the original version of chapter 8 that I wrote, and I wasn't very happy with it from the beginning.. the next chapter is actually an alternative version of chapter 8!

They remained like this for quite a while, still in various stages of undress, recovering. Soon they were so relaxed they slowly started to fall asleep from sheer exhaustion, right there and then, sat on the flattened grass, leaning into each other, both of them inhaling and exhaling in perfect harmony. Yet just when Monroe was about to drift off something caught his attention, something he tried hard to push away by burying his face deeper into Nick, but in vain. Now that his most pressing needs had been taken care of his sense of duty was resurfacing and he could not ignore what his senses were telling him.

“Nick?”, he mubled, opening his eyes and blinking several times to try and wake himself up.

The detective flinched a little and made a sleepy noise against his neck.

“Mmh?”

“You know, I think I can smell a Fuchsbau..”

Monroe stroked the thick, dark mess of hair that was tickling his nose, softly, feeling the young man lean into his hand.

“Hm.”

Nick did not seem overly interested in the new piece of information, but the Blutbad persisted.

“Maybe we should go check it out?”

A minute passed before he felt the Grimm’s shoulders rise and fall, giving him goosebumps as Nick exhaled into his skin. He was surprised his body was reacting to the detective in this way, still – or _again_. It had felt completely spent only minutes ago.

“Fine.”

“Okay.”

But even though they were in agreement it took some time until they were actually able to let go of each other, and Monroe was physically aching as he released the Grimm from his arms. He instantly moved away and diverted his full attention to the task of pulling up his trousers, then getting on his feet, regretting they had nothing to clean themselves up with.

Nick stayed sat on the grass for a little longer, putting on his jeans that lay in a heap about a foot away, then his loafers, after the clockmaker had helpfully fished them out of a nearby bush for him.

Monroe wanted to step away and give the Grimm some privacy, but he just couldn’t move from the spot, watching his friend getting dressed, all of Nick’s little movements that he knew so well, that were ingrained into the very coils of his brain; and now they were making his insides clench. He already regretted breaking their embrace and loosening that deeply instinctual bond between them. Now that they weren’t touching anymore and Monroe was able to _think_ again..

.. nothing made sense. He was, perhaps, ready to believe that Nick had _wanted_ to be overpowered and fucked into the ground, but was it really enough? And enough – for _what_? Where could they possibly go from here? How was this supposed to _work_? A Blutbad and a human? A _Grimm_? A human Grimm who, until very recently, had been undeniably straight? Monroe shook his head. He was way too drained, physically and _emotionally_ , to try and work this one out. And at the same time, he felt he had to say _something_.

“Uh.. listen, Nick..”, Monroe was observing the young man’s fingers as they pulled up the zip, remembering those fingers clawing at his shoulders in bliss. Yet somehow it all seemed far away now, even though he could still feel the detective inside him, as if part of Nick had melted into him when they were in each other’s arms. “.. I can wash some clothes for you if you want.”

“What?”

Nick looked up with that typical mixture of amusement and disbelief and Monroe scratched his head, feeling his cheeks burn. Yeah, maybe not the most obvious thing to say to someone you’d just had manic, passionate and surprisingly animalistic sex with.

“You know.. so you can have some clean underwear.”

“Thanks, I think I’ll make it to the launderette one of these days.”

Nick finished buttoning up his jeans and accepted Monroe’s outstretched hand, his face twisting in discomfort as he got up, and though that pained expression was gone in an instant it was enough to flood Monroe with shame and guilt – and a feeling of tenderness so overwhelming it almost swept him off his feet.

“Are you..?”

He swallowed, fighting the urge to cradle that dazed, groggy face in his hands and kiss it better.

“I’m fine”, Nick gave him a faint smile, then wearily raised an eyebrow, “I _think_. Not really something I’ve been _prepared_ for.”

“I know”, Monroe muttered hastily; the double meaning of that statement did not escape him, though the detective’s tone was not reproachful.

“Me neither.”

He bit down another pointless apology.

“Monroe.. this..”, Nick gazed up at him, and all of a sudden his voice was radiating so much warmth it almost choked the clockmaker. Then he realised they were still holding hands as Nick gave his fingers as gentle squeeze. “.. we..”

“Wait.”

Monroe quickly pulled away his hand, reaching into his back pocket as he suddenly remembered that he did, indeed, have a clean flannel handkerchief, and silently thanked the clockmaker in him for being so thoughtful and providing him with this much-needed distraction. He pulled it out and occupied himself with wiping earth and grass from Nick’s face; wiping the rest of Nick’s words from his mouth before they had a chance to come out.

“Really?” The Grimm scoffed, but did not protest.

“Nick, you look like you’ve been digging a tunnel _with your face_.”

“Yeah, well, you don’t look so good yourself”, Nick observed, and now his tone was noticeably cooler, but Monroe much preferred this option.

“Oh _thanks_.”

He had no doubts that Nick’s assessment was accurate. Every inch of his face felt sore and swollen, and one of his eyes only seemed to open half-way. Yet that was not the only thing that felt sore. Even though Nick’s hug had managed to calm him down considerably, Monroe was still awfully unhinged by all of this, as if someone had peeled off his skin and laid bare all the nerves underneath. He just couldn’t face talking to the Grimm about _this_ , not now.

Whereas Nick seemed to be handling the situation pretty well, which surprised Monroe, and even irritated him a little. He would have expected the young man to be dying of embarrassment right now, not just because they’d had sex, but also because of the _type_ of sex they’d had. The type that was quite normal for Blutbaden mates with their usual dynamics of dominance and submission, of hunting and tackling.. but for a human? A very self-assured male human?

Well, Nick wasn’t just _any_ human, of course, and the clockmaker had always marvelled at his stoic nature. Obviously, the detective had learned to deal with difficult situations at an early age, and now there weren’t too many things that could really faze him, which is why Monroe was pretty shaken when Nick got so incredibly angry after their first night together. But now that the detective had gotten over the initial shock he seemed quite at ease with himself once again, like he usually was, which had allowed him to progress into his new role as a Grimm so smoothly, even though he only had a Blutbad for an unlikely mentor.

Monroe could not help but smile, thinking back to the beginning of their friendship, how Nick’s do-gooder, white-knight attitude had annoyed the hell out of him back then. And how it did nothing to stop him from falling for the Grimm. Nothing at all.

“Well, at least we didn’t _kill_ each other, right?”

He finally stopped rubbing Nick’s cheeks, deciding he did the best he could under the circumstances, and quickly wiped his own face with the other side of the cloth. It smelled delicious, like a very dirty Nick in desperate need of a shower, and Monroe made a mental note never to wash it again.

“Gotta look on the bright side.”

He stuffed the handkerchief back into his pocket.

“But let’s not do this again, shall we?”

Nick smirked, leaning down to retrieve his gun.

“What, _fighting_?”

Monroe did not respond, just pointed in the direction the scent was coming from, which, incidentally, was the way they had been heading all along. He really wanted to get going already. The temptation to kiss Nick was growing fast and he knew that he _shouldn’t_ , even though he was dyingto touch him, to hold Nick close and feel that connection once again. To allow himself to be happy, at least for a little while.

“Let’s go.” He set off, then stopped himself mid-step. “I mean, if you’re ok to.. uh.. you know.. _walk_ ”.

He blushed deeply, looking over to his side, where he was met with an unshaken blue-green.

“Don’t flatter yourselftoo much.”

Nick walked past him and went ahead, a little shaky, but full of determination, leaving the Blutbad open-mouthed as he followed the Grimm with his gaze; then his feet joined in. When he caught up Monroe was smiling in relief. It was only now he realised how scared he had been that after _this_ Nick wouldn’t go back to his usual strong, confident self that Monroe loved and admired. But, of course, a Grimm wasn’t so easily broken. How could he forget?

“So, a Fuchsbau? Female?”

“Yes, definitely.”

“Maybe they’re holding her captive in her own house?”

“Well, I can’t smell anyone _else_ , but some Wesen are kind of scentless, so knowing our luck..”

“Scentless?”

“Oh yeah, though they’re usually the ones that mostly live under water, not - “.

“Wait a second, you’re telling me there are Wesen who _permanently_ live in the sea??”

“No, _of course not_ , Nick. They just have have shark-sized aquariums in their houses. I _think_. I mean I haven’t actually _met_ any. But, you know.. weirder things have happened.”

“Tell me about it.”

Suddenly, Monroe wasn’t so sure if either of  them was still talking about aquarium-dwelling Wesen. He was, however, _very_ certain that he had missed speaking to Nick. Like crazy. So much he would have silent dialogues with Nick in his head whenever something noteworty happened in his life. That he had missed spending time together, doing all those strange things they would usually do together, that suddenly didin’t seem all that strange anymore.

Monroe threw a quick glimpse over at Nick, infinitely grateful for being allowed to talk about something else than what happened between them, at least on the surface. For a moment he even indulged himself in the fantasy that they could be friends again, now that they both got what they so desperately needed from each other, but, of course, that was impossible.

“So this Fuchsbau, is she moving towards us?”

“I don’t think so, she is kind of in one place.”

“Then how come you didn’t smell her before?”

Monroe shrugged and answered more truthfully than intended.

“I guess I just needed to get you out of my system.”

He instantly bit his lip, realising just how _awful_ this must have sounded. But there was no real way to explain it to a human, what it’s like to be drunk legless on a scent so powerful it wipes out anything else.

“So now I’m out of your system?”

Monroe clenched his jaw, not pausing in his stride. This was _exactly_ the type of conversation he was trying to avoid, and yet he was the one who started it by accident. Great. Just _great_.

He was raking his mind for a suitable response when something else seemed to catch Nick’s attention, since the detective muttered ‘Look at that!’, clearly to himself, but, of course, Monroe had to have a look.

The detective was inspecting his shirt, as much as he could whilst walking, and _wearing it_ , which obviously was enough to appreciate the various holes it now sported. And Monroe was not going to tell him about the even more prominent and clearly claw-shaped rips at the back. It seemed this particular style of shirts had a pretty low life expectancy on Nick’s body these days.

“You know, Monroe, maybe next time you could at least _try_ not to destroy my clothes”, Nick sighed, finally looking up from the poor, innocent garment, ”because I really can’t afford to buy new stuff whenever.. “

There was a short pause and Monroe used it, cautiously.

“Nick, I don’t think there’s gonna _be_ a next time.”

He really didn’t want to hurt Nick or make him feel like he was only good enough for a quick fuck and nothing else. Because that wasn’t it _at all_. It was rather the opposite that was the problem here. But the Blutbad was certainly not prepared to talk about _that_.

“What, it wasn’t good for you?”

The Grimm’s tone was pointedly casual, but Monroe knew him well enough to hear the bitter, reproachful note hidden within, even a hint of insecurity. It surprised him, before he remembered that, of course, the Grimm had never done anything like this before. Monroe squinched up his face. Nick did not even have the faintest idea how _amazing_ , how mind-bogglingly _fantastic_ their sex had been, how immensely satisfying, in ways that Blutbaden don’t usually expect from intercourse with humans.

And for a moment he wanted to tell Nick just that, to reassure him, and also because it had been burning a whole into his tongue for quite a while. But he just couldn’t get himself to utter those words, because then he would also have to tell Nick how much he regretted it. It should have never come to this. What they had was the type of intimacy no Blutbad should ever have with anyone else but his mate, someone he knows he would spend the rest of his life with. It was just too intense, too _deep_ , and now he was feeling numb and empty inside, knowing that Nick had not a single chance to understand the type of relationship he would want, no, _need_.

Obviously not numb enough though not to be instantly aroused at the thought of the recent memories they shared, all those beautiful gasps and moans he was able to draw out of the Grimm.

“That’s hardly the _point_ , Nick.”

“Then what _is_ the point”, the detective grumbled, wearily; and then, under his breath, but loud enough for the Blutbad’s ears: “So much for ‘ _you’re mine_ ’”.

A second later Monroe stopped so abruptly that Nick almost stumbled into him, and a part of Monroe wished he had.

“Alright, Nick.” He turned to face the detective. Nick wanted to talk? Fine! They could talk. “I’m interested. What do you want from me _precisely_. Tell me.”

“Uh..”, the Grimm stared at him, obviously unprepared for this sudden onslaught, and Monroe could not help but be drawn to his helpless face once again, and find it adorable.

“Come on”, Monroe encouraged him, digging his hands into his pockets with such vehemence it strained his shoulders; he did not want to give them any freedom to roam. “Just be straight.”

He reconsidered.

“Or rather, be _honest_. Maybe _straight_ is not the best word in the context.”

Nick rolled his eyes, obviously not in the mood for puns.

“Well, I mean.. uh.. I’m not completely sure, but -”

“ _Exactly_ ”, Monroe cut him off bluntly, shook his head and continued walking towards what looked like a clearing. The trees were already thinning out around them and the Fuchsbau’s scent was getting stronger by the second.

“Wait”, Nick caught up, “I don’t think it’s fair that you -"

“ _Look_.There.” Monroe was unspeakably happy to be pointing at a little cottage in the middle of the glade. “That must be it.”

Nick gave a deep sigh, throwing him a brief but clearly frustrated glance as he drew his gun. Monroe swallowed. For some reason he had always though that Nick looked incredibly hot with a gun in his skilled cop hands. These thoughts really weren’t helpful right now. Or _at all_.

“Alright. Let’s check it out.”

They quickly tiptoed across the grass to the little house and hid behind a bush which, conveniently, was growing just to the right of a window.

“How close?” Nick whispered, leaning into the Blutbad so that their shoulders touched and the detective’s breath was hot in Monroe’s ear.

“Dunno. _Close_.” Monroe could hardly give a more precise answer, and _hardly_ was really the problem here. He only hoped that Nick wouldn’t notice that, despite his earlier objections, he was almost ready for a second round.

Without another word Nick pointed at the window and looked at him, questioningly; Monroe nodded. They inched towards the window, crouched, then lifted their heads just enough to peek through the pane.. and were instantly met by a pair of blue eyes, which, as they both noted, belonged to a pretty blonde girl approximately Nick’s age. She froze, pan in hand, obviously about to start cooking; and then, a second later, walked towards them and opened the window.

“Hi.”

Not seeing any immediate danger, the Blutbad and the Grimm straightened up, slowly and completely synchronously, which to the girl must have looked like a scene from an old-fashioned, black-and-white comedy.

“.. Suzanne?” The detective whispered, cupping a hand around his mouth. “Are you ok?”

“Yes?” She answered at normal volume. “And who are you?”

Nick and Monroe exchanged puzzled looks.

“We.. uh.. thought you might have been kidnapped”, the Blutbad pointed out, feeling increasingly silly, “but it seems you are alright?”

“Kidnapped?” Suzanne laughed. “ _I_ haven’t been kidnapped! But what happened to _you two_?”

She inspected the bruises and cuts on their faces with interest.

“Ah.. well..”, Monroe rubbed the back of his neck.

“.. we.. uh.. bumped into a _bush_..”, Nick picked up.

 “.. yeah.. a really thorny one..”, Monroe clarified, lifting an ironic ‘that’s the best you could do?’ eyebrow at Nick.

“.. those plants are dangerous, you know..”, Nick confirmed, lifting a defiant ‘at least I said _something_ ’ eyebrow back at Monroe.

“.. then Nick here stumbled over a squirrel!” Monroe rolled his eyes, deciding there was no way to save _that_ story.

“Rosalee was right!” Suzanne clapped her hands in delight. “You two are so cute! Wait a second..”

She disappeared from their field of vision and left them both gaping after her in shock, but returned shortly after with two glasses of water.

“Here, you look like you need it.”

She smiled, handing them their drinks through the open window.

“Wait a second, Rosalee said _what_?” Nick demanded, but could not resist the tempting glass of water hovering in front of his face. Monroe accepted his as well, suddenly realising that he was, in fact, dying of thirst after their earlier bout of _exercise_ , and mumbled a distracted ‘Thanks!’ as a clear picture of what was going on here was forming in his head. And now Rosalee’s smug grin back in the shop made perfect sense.

“Oh, she just told me I might get some visitors today”, Suzanne elaborated in the meantime, “she did not explain wh- “

“Knew it!”, Monroe growled, claws screeching along the empty glass as it vibrated dangerously in his hand, “Gonna kill that sneaky Fucksbau.. hey, no offence!” He waved his hands appeasingly at the alarmed expression on Suzanne’s face. “Not _you_. And it’s just a turn of phrase, okay.”

“She could have warned me it’s gonna be a Blutbad”, the girl noted, still a little suspicious. “And a.. hm..”, she mustered Nick, “Kehrseite-Schlich-Kennen?”

“Hey”, Nick sounded indignant, ”I’m a Grnghmmm!”

Monroe gave Suzanne an apologetic smile as he placed a hand over the Grimm’s mouth, careful to withdraw his claws first.

“She sent us on wild-goose chase here”, he explained to the Fuchsbau, handing her his glass and ignoring the muffled sounds emerging from underneath his hand, “saying you’d been abducted, so you can imagine we’re not happy campers, I mean, not that we would ever go camping together, we’re just- “

“Mgnnnfhf!” Nick added, meaningfully, then finally managed to peel the Blutbad’s hand away from his mouth. “Why would she _do_ that, Monroe?”

“Don’t you get it!?” The Blutbad stared at him in disbelief. “Obviously, she thought if we spend some time together, just the two of us, we might.. uh..”, he suddenly remembered the presence of a third party, “ _settle our differences_! Isn’t that obvious? You can be so stupid sometimes”, he continued ranting, and as was often the case his mouth got way ahead of his mind, “do you know that Nick? Sometimes I don’t even have the faintest idea why I love you so damn much, because you c- “

They gawked at each other open-mouthed, and Monroe’s heart skipped so many beats he was wondering whether it would ever start pumping again, but then it did, and very, _very_ fast. The silence that ensued was excrutiating and dragged on, until it was interrupted by another clap of hands.

“That’s so sweet!” Suzanne exclaimed.

Monroe clenched his eyes and made the thoughtful decision not to freak out.

“Alright!” He proclaimed, “Time to go!”

The Blutbad turned on his heels and made towards the line of trees, aiming to hide in their shadows as quickly as he could. Did he really just say _this_ to Nick? _THIS_? And in such a ludicrous context as well?  It really wasn’t the way he had imagined he would profess his love, if he did have an image in his head at all, since he knew it would be as likely to become reality as him wearing a digital watch! Well, it certainly looked like some digital watch designer might be in luck today..

Monroe had already entered the forest when Nick caught up, and the Blutbad felt his insides tense in agony as he tried to ignore the light steps behind him.

“Hey Monroe, wait..”

A hand caught him by the elbow, pulling firmly until he finally stopped and turned around – and was met with warm, eager lips on his as Nick’s hands slid around his neck, stroking lightly. Monroe was not prepared for this. But, it seemed, his body was. His body had been preparing for this all his life. He leaned into the innocent kiss with all that he had as the knot in his stomach dissolved into a dizzying tumble. He wanted to wrap his arms around Nick, but.. this felt so right. So good. _Too_ good. It was impossible. It could not be true. He would just regret it.

Instead of hugging Nick he reached behind himself and gently unlocked Nick’s hands, pulling them away from his neck as he forced himself to let go of Nick’s lips.

“Let’s get back to the car”, he said quietly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review and tell me how to make this chapter better?!? Or read the alternative and tell me if you like it more?


	9. Chapter 8 - Version 2 (8.2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> * THIS IS AN ALTERNATIVE VERSION OF CHAPTER 8, NOT CHAPTER 9 *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you know, I wasn’t happy with chapter 8, and every time I tried to write chapter 9 it just didn’t flow. So now I’ve written an alternative version of chapter 8 instead, which actually ends this story (the first few sentences are the same as in the original chapter 8, but then it develops in a completely different direction).
> 
> It’s not at all how I was planning to end the story, but I suddenly got this new idea, and I admit it is pretty silly and unrealistic, but I kind of like it. It's more light-hearted and there is less pointless moping around, and it’s more in character for Monroe (I think). I hope you like it.

They remained like this for quite a while, still in various stages of undress, recovering. Soon they were so relaxed they slowly started to fall asleep from sheer exhaustion, right there and then, sat on the flattened grass, leaning into each other, both of them inhaling and exhaling in perfect harmony. Yet just when Monroe was about to drift off he was rudely pulled back into reality by an unexpected vibration around his knee area, accompanied by a few chords of Hungarian Dance Number 5.

“That your phone?”

The clockmaker ignored it, pressing his face deeper into Nick. It was the only form of communication he cared for right now, the one those warm, accepting arms were offering. There were just too many dangerous, pointy things out there, fears, questions, practical concerns, too many ways to burst his perfect bubble.

But the detective stirred, and very, very reluctantly Monroe released him.

“Mozart”, Nick chuckled, “do I even need to ask?”

“Brahms”, Monroe corrected him, automatically. His mind was way too busy failing to believe how after all those outlandish things that had happened to their friendship, after arguing and not speaking for weeks, and _especially_ after today, Nick was talking to him in quite a normal manner again. As if they had traveled two month back in time, to a point where they were just friends and the clockmaker was, in fact, not at all unhappy relishing that special, bittersweet flavour of unrequited love. But now their knees were touching and Nick’s hand was resting lightly on Monroe’s naked thigh, and nothing was the same.

“Not gonna check?”

“What?”

“Your phone.”

“Oh. Yes. Of course. Uh..”

Monroe made a move to retrieve it, then remembered something.

“Oh.. heh..”

He awkwardly wiped his sticky right hand on the grass, and despite the embarrassment of it the recent memory shot through him like a lightning bolt, making him pull up his trousers very, _very_ quickly, before Nick would notice any stirring and think he’s a complete sex maniac. He fished his phone out of the back pocket.

“Hm, Rosalee.” Monroe inspected the screen, struggling to focus on the content of the message for a moment; he was deadly tired. “Huh. She’s saying she’s heard from her friend, so we don’t need to look for her anymore. Well.. that’s pretty convenient timing, don’t you think?”

He glimpsed over at the detective, who in the meantime had found his jeans and was pulling them on, with some effort, Monroe noted, and as much as their seemingly endless post-coital hug had reassured him he still could not ignore the way Nick’s face twitched in pain when he lifted his hips. It brought back some of the guilt, and also a generous serving of confusion as his brain started to process, really _process_ what just happened, rather than simply panic.

“Oh God, Nick”, he stammered, nervously tugging at his zip to close his fly, but not quite succeeding, “we just had sex!”

The young man squinted at him with that typical ‘I can’t believe you’re actually saying this’ expression; he was doing a little better with his own fly.

“Yes. Yes, I noticed.”

Monroe swallowed, watching the Grimm almost lose his balance as he got up and started scanning the area, still not looking too firm on his feet. “Dude, are you really okay? Uh.. you know, maybe we should go back to the shop and Rosalee can give you a cream for your ar-hem..”, he rubbed his neck, “..face, mostly. Look, I might have scratched you a little. ”

Nick only stared at him, cocking an eyebrow in response.

“Sorry, sorry. I know. _Awkward_. Oh man..”

The clockmaker covered his face with his hands, shaking his head.

“.. oh man, this is such a discombobulated situation. I mean..”, he dared to peek at the Grimm through his fingers, “.. you wanted this, right?”

He felt completely helpless all of a sudden. It was his turn to be at the detective’s mercy, since a negative response would mean his life is over, he knew that.

“Do you really need to ask that?”

“I guess it’s a bit late”, Monroe admitted, “but yes, I kind of do, because you said ‘no’, but then your.. oh my God, I should never have.. ow..”, he hid his eyes once again, kneading his forehead as if trying to physically wipe the painful thoughts from his frontal lobe, “..oh nonono.. this is even more awkward than when great-aunt Rosamunde accidentally ate her husband..”

“Huh?!”

“.. never mind.. ugh.. this is terrible..”, he felt his claws digging into his own skin, but really couldn’t give a damn whether he injured himself right now, “.. I hurt you.. I made you bleed.. ow..”

“Hey, hey, calm down, okay?”, Nick was quick to intervene before Monroe had a chance to inadvertently scalp himself. “I wanted to. Alright? And by the way, I _also_ made you bleed. You should see yourself in the mirror. Can you stop freaking out now?”

“ _No_ ”, Monroe whined, “I don’t _believe_ you. If you wanted to, why did you _fight_ me? This doesn’t make any sense..”

“Well.. did you not like that? Because the book said this is how Blutbaden usually..“

“I’m sorry excuse me?”

Monroe’s hands dropped from his face as he gazed up at the Grimm, gobsmacked.

“Oh, _that’s_ where you threw my shoes. Right in the nettles. Thanks for that.”

Monroe followed the detective’s shape with his eyes as the young man went to retrieve his loafers.

“Nick? What do you mean? What book? I don’t..”

“Look.. uh..”, the Grimm watched his feet as he slipped into the shoes, “.. just don’t hate me, okay?”

Monroe ground his teeth, fighting the urge to start screaming and waving his hands at Nick in a completely undignified manner.

“Dude. I _can’t_ hate you. Believe me. I tried. But if you don’t tell me what’s going on I think my head’s gonna explode, and that’s not a pretty sight, alright?”

“Alright, alright”, Nick made an appeasing gesture and glimpsed at him for a moment before averting his eyes. “Rosalee lent me this book on.. you know.. Wesen mating practices, and I read the bit about Blutbaden, how one of the.. uh.. partners is not supposed to give in straight away, especially the first time, so that.. uh.. claiming can take place and -"

“What?”

“Sorry, I might have gotten the terminology wrong, I don’t remember all the exact details..”

There was a silence, only punctured by the almost audible blinking of the Blutbad’s eyelids, and the sounds his mouth was making as he opened and closed it repeatedly.

 “.. oh, and then I read the bit about Lauseschlangen, that was also really fascinating, did you know they -"

“ _What_?”

“Can you stop saying ‘What’?”

“Why?”

“Huh?”

“Why were you reading about that?”

“Well, I wanted to be prepared, just in case..”

“ _Just in case_?”

“Though the biting still shocked me a little”, Nick cautiously touched the fresh, bleeding wound on his neck. “That was really painful, you know?”

“I’m sorry”, Monroe mumbled, momentarily thrown off the main line of this surreal conversation they were having.

“But it was also.. kind of hot”, the detective added, his face turning the same colour as the blood on his fingertips.

“Oh. Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh.”

Monroe tilted his head, squinting at the Grimm, as if seeing him for the very first time.

“You know, Nick, I would never have pegged you as such a pervert.”

“ _Pervert_?” The Grimm exhaled in a chuckle. “That coming from you?”

“Hey, _I’m_ not a pervert!”, Monroe protested, “I’m perfectly normal. _For a Blutbad_. As, it seems, you’re already aware. Which, by the way, you still haven’t explained to me. So, what, it was all an _act_? You just behaved in a way you thought would please me?”

“No, _of course_ it wasn’t just an a-“

“You _manipulated_ me? Do you even realise how horrible this makes me feel right now?”

“I don’t think I did! If I were a Blutbad you wouldn’t be saying that! You’d just take it as normal courtship behaviour.”

“Yes, exactly! _If you were a Blutbad_. But you’re not a Blutbad, Nick! You’re a human. You’re a _Grimm_. That’s like the _opposite_ of a Blubad. What were you even _thinking_?!”

“Just what is your _problem_ , Monroe?!” Nick burst out in frustration. “You enjoyed it. _I_ enjoyed it. I thought that was pretty obvious. Do we really need to discuss this in any more detail? For God’s sake! So maybe I _am_ a pervert. I don’t even _care_!” He jerked a hand through tousled hair. “My life is already a complete mess, that’s just one more thing I’ll learn to deal with. I thought at least with _you_ everything would be easy now.”

“You.. _Oh God_!” The clockmaker was suddenly hit by a thought so crazy yet compelling he had to dig his heels into the earth, afraid to fall over, even though he was still sat on the ground. He remembered how Nick didn’t seem at all surprised by Rosalee’s earlier message. “There is no kidnapped Fuchsbau living in this forest, is there?”

The detective looked to the side and continued playing with his hair.

“Is there, Nick?”

“Well.. there’s Suzanne.. and there’s this forest.. but they are not necessarily -"

“Wait-, Wait a second, okay. Okay. Let me just get this straight”, Monroe stopped him, furiously massaging his temples, “So you and Rosalee, my two best friends, you conspired against me and devised this elaborate legerdemain – just so that you can get into my pants?!?”

“I think, technically, _you_ got into _my_ pants!”

“You deceived me!”

“And _you_ ’ve always told me the truth, huh? When you said you just wanted to be friends, that was the truth!?”

“That’s completely different! I was just trying to protect you from yourself!” And protect _myself_ from unnecessary heartbreak, Monroe added in his head; he wasn’t sure if either had been achieved. “But _you_.. so you weren’t _actually_ angry at me back at the shop, and on the way here? You were just playing along?”

“Well, I _had_ to, or you’d never have agreed to spend time with me! If you’d known I wanted to be around you, you would’ve just gone back home and avoided me for the rest of your life. I _know_ you. Rosalee told me you even deleted my number!”

“And you only punched me because your book probably recommended it as foreplay?”

“Actually, I _was_ genuinely annoyed at you when you said -"

“Pity they’ve already done the Oscars this year.”

“Listen Monroe, I really didn’t _want_ to deceive you, I just -"

“You deserve it more than Meryl Streep.”

“I’m _sorry_ , okay?” Nick threw up his hands in exasperation. “I just wanted a chance to be alone with you to try and make things right. So I asked Rosalee if she could think of somewhere we could go together, and send you a text a couple of hours later so we don’t end up spending days walking around -”

“ _Make things right_?! You gave me a black eye the size of a cauliflower, and you _lied_ to me. Guess which one hurts more.”

“Look, I honestly didn’t know _what_ would happen. Did I not let you have the lead? Of course I was hoping we would work things out, but I didn’t actually expect..”

“Well, congratulations.”

“I was _desperate_ Monroe, I didn’t know what else to do!”

“How about _talking_ to me?”

“Yeah. I tried that. Went really well. Especially the part where you didn’t listen to single word I was saying and kicked me out of your house!”

“You called me an arsehole!”, Monroe tried defending himself, but deep down he knew that Nick had a point.

“Well, _you_ implied I was just messing around because Juliette dumped me! That’s equally insulting. I thought you’d know me better than that.”

“I’m not even sure I know you _at all_ anymore.”

Nick’s shoulders visibly dropped, and then Monroe buried his face in his palms, for the third time in the course of only a quarter of an hour.

“Ow. My head”, he started rubbing his eyelids, which brought no relief, “I need some aspirin. No. Wine. I need wine. Oh God. We suck at communicating. Hn. How could you? This is _insane_..”

“I’m _sorry_.”

Suddenly, Nick’s voice was shaking with tears, and crying was something Monroe had never seen him doing, not even during all the hell he went through with Juliette. It was enough to make the clockmaker lift his gaze.

“I didn’t know how to make you believe that I _fell_ _in love with you_!”

Monroe stared into the young man’s eyes, the way they were glistening at him, pleadingly, and was not able to utter a single word. As if Nick’s confession had burned through the fog in his head like a dazzling ray of light, leaving him without the gift of human speech. Yet his thoughts were working overtime, and every one of them was like a bright little firefly, setting him alight.

Why didn’t you tell me, was all he could think. You never told me. Why didn’t you tell me exactly _this_.

And Nick seemed to be reading his mind, since he continued, unprompted.

“I _wanted_ to tell you, that evening I came to see you. I was just building up my courage. Why do you think I came so late? It took me all day. Do you even understand how difficult this is for me? I’m useless talking about these things. You _know_ that. I mean, you’ve seen my _mother_ , right? And you didn’t believe me and started throwing things at me, so I thought maybe actions would speak louder than words, and I could somehow _show_ you that I mean it.” He sighed. “After I read the book I understood why you turned me down. I know Blutbaden take relationships very seriously. And of course I can see how all of this came completely out of nowhere for you, especially with the way I behaved at times, and I wasn’t even able to express myself properly.. You were bound to think it was just a bad joke and be angry at me. But if _you_ were confused, just imagine how confused _I_ was! Like the Grimm thing, it completely overwhelmed me at first.. but now I wouldn’t want it any other way. Two month ago I didn’t even know I could be attracted to a guy at all! Well, there might have been clues back in college, but I never thought much of it. Aunt Marie was very traditional. Which I now think is ridiculous, considering she knew how _crazy_ the world is.”

“Hey, Wesen’t aren’t _crazy_.” Unexpectedly, Monroe rediscovered his voice. “Well, I mean, _some_ of us are.”

He considered it for another moment.

“Alright, maybe _most_ of us are. But you, Nick, are more crazy than _any_ Wesen I’ve ever met. You definitely have a good dozen bats in the belfry, at least.”

“What, because it took me thirty years to discover I’m into guys? But you’re not just _any_ guy, Monroe. You’re _amazing_ ,in so many ways.. I guess, in more ways than I thought”, he added under his breath, but loudly enough to make the Blutbad flush uncontrollably. “All the random things you know, and your weird sense of humour.. you always make me laugh and feel at home, and you said once you weren’t much of a do-gooder, but you’re the best person I know, I wouldn’t even have _survived_ the last year without you, so.. I know you wanted me to show my appreciation with a gift basket, but..”

Nick sniffed, breathless from his monologue, lightly spreading his hands in a clear ‘how about this instead’ gesture. And then Monroe realised he was so infinitely happy he couldn’t really be bothered with feeling hurt or indignant anymore, even though he certainly had every right to. But he didn’t mind letting Nick stew in his own juice for a little longer. It was delicious, and the Grimm certainly deserved it.

“You know, I’m not even sure if I’m supposed to feel disturbed, or flattered, or flattered in a really disturbing kind of way.”

Monroe intended to sound light-hearted, but, obviously, Nick was too overwrought to recognise it.

“I understand”, he shrugged with a deep exhale that sounded more like a sob and rummaged in his pockets, “I screwed everything up. Again. You know what, you take the car”, he got out the keys, dropping them on the ground by his feet, “I’ll walk back. It’s just fifteen miles, so I.. I’ll just go.”

“Not so fast!”

The Blutbad positively jumped to his feet, crossing the distance between them in one giant stride, almost a leap, and throwing his arms around Nick, squeezing him tightly enough to stop him from even _moving_ , let alone going anywhere. It was all the Grimm could do to _breathe_ , pressing his wet face into Monroe’s chest.

“I can’t let you walk fifteen miles, Nick. You put on your shoes the wrong way round.”

* * *

~~~ Epilogue ~~~

* * *

Monroe was woken by a persistent ringing sound and spent some time fumbling for his phone on the bedside table, blindly, as he struggled to open his eyes. They didn’t get much sleep last night. There were just too many things to talk about, especially since they promised to be completely honest with each other from now on.

“Monroe.”

“Did it work?”

The clockmaker recognised the sweet female voice almost instantly.

“Rosalee. You know, I’m very angry with you. And Nick. Both of you.”

That was certainly true. He couldn’t forgive the Grimm quite yet. He would make Nick pay for tricking him. In many enjoyable ways.

“Yes, I can understand that. But did it work?”

“Well..”, he finally managed to force his lids apart and gazed over to his side, to Nick, who was slowly waking up, well, it was almost midday. And for a moment Monroe tensed, suddenly caught in a déjà vu experience and scared that everything would go exactly like it did last time they woke up together. That the detective would have forgotten everything, that he’d shout at him and run away, and things would keep repeating themselves in endless, vicious circles of misunderstandings and confusion. But then Nick smiled and opened his eyes, and _those_ were two circles Monroe wouldn’t mind being caught in for all eternity.

“.. I guess, I mean, apart from that time we almost killed eaf ower..”

Nick seemed to think this was a good time to start sucking on his lower lip.

“.. goowye Wowawee.”

He happily hung up, ignoring the protesting sounds on the other side of the line, demanding further details. There were far better things to be doing with his mouth right now, and despite the exhausting day and the sleepless night that followed it he suddenly felt wide awake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So.. I don't actually think Nick would ever do something like that, and I also don't think Monroe would have forgiven him if he did. But my rationale for writing this version was that I wanted to make Nick appear less helpless and passive in order to take the rapey edge off chapter 6 and save the love story..
> 
> PLEASE VOTE, I really need your opinion on how this story should end:  
> a) With chapter 7, and maybe the Epilogue attached to it (the readers can infer the rest themselves)  
> b) With the second version of chapter 8 (if most people select this option I will get rid of chapter 8.1)  
> c) With chapter 9, following on from chapter 8.1 (in this case, please let me know what you'd like to see happening in chapter 9)  
> d) Something completely different..  
> e) I should scrap the whole story, because, obviously, my preferred type of angsty storylines doesn't really work for this genuinely adorable pairing (sniff)
> 
> I would really appreciate your thoughts! Thanks in advance! And thanks a lot for reading my story!! :D
> 
> P.S.: I finally started watching season 4.. Is it just my impression, or is Monroe actually getting hotter with every season??


End file.
